Where the Ocean and Sky Collide
by Boogum
Summary: Every thread is linked, every path intertwined. It didn't matter how they met or how they were divided; they would always come together. Written for Zutara Month. Genres will vary.
1. Relief

I'm clearly insane, as even though I am busy and trying to get other stories written, I decided it would be a good idea to participate in Zutara Month. Yeah. So, as you might have guessed, _Where the Ocean and Sky Collide_ is indeed going to be a collection of thirty-one Zutara ficlets and one-shots. None of the stories are related and will vary in size, genre and era. Updates will be daily.

Also, I'll just state now that I am going to be uploading my responses according to my own time zone. So no, I'm not posting early; I just live in the FuTuRe (New Zealand) and am a day ahead of most people around the world. ^_~

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**Soundtrack: **The Dream is Still Alive - Xandria

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**Relief**

It starts with a flash of violent blue. Katara watches the light streak through a sky painted with blood and fire, crackling with an energy that is so beautiful, so deadly. Her mind screams at her legs to move, but it is as if ice has spread its way over her body, encasing her in a paralysing shell. She cannot move, and her heart is beating so fast, and her chest is constricting so tightly, and everything just seems to be closing in around her, shutting her into a world where only she and the light exists.

_I'm going to die._

The words are an unspoken whisper in her mind, except suddenly she is no longer in the direct path of the light. Zuko is there, and he's cradling something that sparks with violent blue to his chest, and it's as if time just stops, or maybe that's just her heart, because she cannot believe that this is happening. She cannot believe that the scarred prince she once hated is now the only thing stopping her from certain death, even at the risk of his own life.

"_Zuko_!"

The name rips free of her throat, raw and desperate, because the light has been sent crackling off into the distance, yet he is still clutching his hands to his chest, his body convulsing in painful contortions. He doesn't fall gracefully; he collapses in an awkward heap on the ground, shuddering and curling up into himself like a dying animal. Even from where she is standing, she can hear the awful gasps that escape his lips, like air escaping through punctured lungs. It's too much, far, far too much, and suddenly the ice that holds her frozen shatters. She doesn't think; she just runs, desperate to reach him before it's too late, but she is not fast enough to beat Azula's wall of blue fire.

"I'd really rather our family physician look after little Zuzu, if you don't mind," Azula taunts, sweeping her arms around in a circular motion to prepare for another lightning strike.

Katara can feel the heat of the flames lick at her skin, but that is nothing to the storm of rage brewing in her heart. Her eyes narrow as she meets that insane-edged gaze, and she gathers the water to her hands and charges after the princess. It doesn't matter if Azula is a firebending prodigy; Katara will not give up—not when there's still a chance to save him. Azula's laughter echoes around the arena as lightning escapes from her fingertips like wild streaks of madness, aiming to kill, but Katara does not falter. Fire cannot extinguish her anger, her determination; she is a flood that twists and smothers until, finally, the princess is left writhing on the ground in chains, screaming and releasing flames into the air. The insanity has been contained, at least for the moment, but there is no relief. Not just yet. Because Zuko is still unmoving on the ground, and that is something that Katara cannot accept.

"Zuko!" the waterbender shouts, running towards the fallen figure.

She collapses on her knees beside him, placing glowing palms on his chest. A faint heartbeat pulses against her palm, but it's so weak and fragile, like the fluttering wings of a wounded sparrowkeet. Fear forms a lump in her throat, thick and choking, because she knows all too well that there is no vial of Spirit Oasis water to aid her this time. If she cannot heal him, he will die.

_Please_, she inwardly begs, even as tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. _Please, just let this work. Just let me heal him._

Closing her eyes, she allows the water to connect with his chi, blending in a fusion of liquid and fire. His energy is all tangled knots and frayed edges, but she just keeps on trying, no matter how scared and exhausted she feels. Nothing is impossible to fix, that's what Gran-Gran used to say, and Katara wants to believe that right now. She wants to believe that the wounded sparrowkeet fluttering against her palms can fly again instead of this eternal, sickening descent.

_Please, Zuko_. Something warm rolls down her cheek, lingering on her trembling lips. _Please don't do this to me. You've never given up before. Fight! _

Under her hands, a boy's chest rises and falls. Her breath catches as she feels the sickening flutters of his heart even out, becoming stronger and of a steadier rhythm; it is a song of determination, a song of life, and it is the most beautiful thing she has ever felt. Warm fingers close around her wrist, and her eyes snap open to meet a blur of pale gold. She cannot believe that there was once a time when she had despised the colour.

"Thank you, Katara," Zuko rasps weakly.

Fresh tears roll down her cheeks, and she places her hand over his. "I think I should be the one thanking you."

He doesn't explain why he took the lightning for her; instead, he simply returns the pressure of her grip. It's such a simple gesture, but it is one that is filled with unspoken words—whispers of friendship and gratitude and something so much more; however, it is the overwhelming sense of relief that Katara feels which makes her smile. Because Zuko is alive, and somehow that makes everything okay.

Somehow, it is enough.


	2. Luminous

**Soundtrack:** Marine Lights – Valentin Boomes

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**Luminous**

The shadows close around her as the candle between them exhales its last breath, snatching away the last of any real light. Smoke curls through the air like a scarf fluttering in the wind, but it is grey and colourless, and it cannot hold her attention. Everything is colourless in this room—everything except the luminous eyes that meet her own. His irises are gold and so different to her Water Tribe blue, reminding her of the pale suns that she used to see adorning the skies back at the South Pole. The colour is a reflection of the fire that burns within him, but it is so much softer than the molten ambers and brownish-reds she has come to associate with the Fire Nation.

Hands clasp her face, warm and gentle. She does not move; she is transfixed by the colour of his eyes, so bright and mesmerising when set against the dusky greys that surround them. His fingers slip down to the nape of her neck, and she cannot help the shaky breath that escapes her lips. The two of them are so close now—close enough for her to feel the heat of his body caress her skin like the touch of butterfly wings; to see the different shades of gold that paint his irises in a swirl of fire and light. Her mouth is dry and her heart won't stop pounding; it's like a drum that just keeps beating faster and faster, to the point where she can feel her whole body throbbing in time to the rhythm. It is dizzying and terrifying, yet somehow so exhilarating.

"Katara."

His voice is a raspy whisper, but it is also a bell ringing in her heart. It echoes and echoes inside her, calling her forward—calling her to him. Instinctively, she raises her head just as he lowers his own, and for a moment she is lost in a glow of pale gold. Then her eyes slide shut and she feels his lips brush against hers, so light and ephemeral, yet so infinitely _right_. His fingers tangle in her hair as he deepens the kiss, and it is as if an explosion of colour has been lit inside her. Everything is so bright, so tangible, like white-hot flames coiling their way through her blood. She has never felt so alive.

She has never felt so at one with fire.

There is no such thing as enemies or hate in this moment. There is only the gentle caress of his touch, the intoxicating taste of his kisses, and the golden light that calls her onwards. He is a pale sun warming her frozen world, and she will cling to him forever. She will let him guide her heart home.


	3. Potential

**Soundtrack:** Death Favours No Man – James Newton Howard

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**Potential**

The sun was warm on his face. He closed his eyes, letting the rays bathe his skin in a caress of heat and life. He had always had a close affinity with the sun, but never had he needed its comfort more than now. In a few hours he would become the Fire Lord. He would become the leader of thousands, and the thought was as terrifying as it was humbling.

Footsteps sounded from behind him, steady and familiar. He didn't move as umber-tanned arms wrapped around his waist, holding him close, but the corner of his mouth lifted a fraction when he felt her lips brush against the nape of his neck. Without opening his eyes, he moved to rest his hands on top of hers, fingers intertwining. She let out a sigh as she leaned her chin on his shoulder, just content to stand there with him. He could smell the whispers of ocean lingering in her dark tangle of hair, and for some reason this soothed his nerves. It reminded him of the years he had spent searching for the Avatar on the small ship he had been given during his banishment—bitter, hard and wounding years, but it was also during that time that he had discovered his true strength. The ocean had tried to drag him down, but it had also taught him how to rise. It had taught him how to succeed.

Zuko had never been one to give up—not even when something was difficult—but those years spent in banishment had been different. Azula hadn't been there to mock him, his father hadn't been there to disapprove of him; it was just Zuko, his uncle and the crew. He'd had nothing and everything to lose, and somehow that had made all of the difference. Suddenly, it had stopped being about picking himself up over and over again after yet another failure; it had become a matter of not letting himself fall in the first place. Zuko had burned with determination, with a need to succeed, and almost every facet of his skill as a warrior had improved because of it. But did that mean that he had what it took to rule a nation?

_You have great potential, Prince Zuko. You just need to believe in yourself._

Zuko had always dismissed his uncle's words, and even now he still felt so uncertain. He had made so many mistakes, hurt so many people. How could he ever expect to be a good Fire Lord? He could barely rule his own emotions, let alone a country.

"What are you thinking about?" Katara asked, tracing her thumb along his palm.

Zuko opened his eyes, distracted by the question. He gazed out over the balcony to the rows of red-roofed buildings that stretched forth below, all of which housed people whom he knew would soon be looking to him for the answers to all of their problems. A crease formed on his brow and, repressing a sigh, he stared down at his boots.

"The ceremony," he answered truthfully. "I don't know if I'm ready. I don't know if I'll ever be ready."

She gently disengaged herself and moved around to stand in front of him, only to take his face in her hands so that he had no choice but to meet her gaze. Her eyes looked so blue in that moment—bluer than any ocean he had sailed—but the expression that swirled within was one of fierce loyalty and love. It still amazed him that she could feel that way about him.

"Zuko, you need to stop doubting yourself," Katara said firmly. "You have so much to offer these people, and you don't even realise it."

"But I—"

"No." Her expression softened and she let her fingers slide down his unscarred cheek in a caress. "Trust me, Zuko. You're going to be a great Fire Lord."

He clasped her wrist. "I don't know if I can do it, Katara. I'm only sixteen, and half of the Fire Nation don't even like me, and I—"

"You can do it." A grin tugged at her mouth. "After all, you persuaded me to believe in you, and that was after chasing me halfway around the world so you could capture Aang."

His mouth twitched into an answering smile, but it faded a second later. "What if I fail? What if—what if I end up just like my father?"

Katara held his gaze steadily. "You won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know you, and I know that you are nothing like Ozai. You are your own person, Zuko, and that person is more than what your father could ever be." She gave him a small shake. "So stop your worrying. You're going to be fine. Everyone believes in you; you just have to believe in yourself."

He froze, reminded again of his uncle's words.

_You have great potential, Prince Zuko. You just need to believe in yourself._

Katara's brow furrowed. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He blinked and glanced down at her, meeting her eyes. "Nothing," he said with the beginnings of a smile. "I just realised something, that's all."

Because now he understood that the ocean had never really left him. It was still teaching him how to reach his true potential, only now it took the form of a girl with ocean-blue irises and dark hair. She had dragged him down, but she had helped him rise as well. It was a reassuring thought, and it had Zuko enfolding the waterbender in his arms, holding her close enough to feel her heart beat in time with his.

"Thank you," he murmured after a moment, burying his face into her hair.

"For what?"

"For staying by my side."

Katara's hand found his, interlacing their fingers once more. She didn't say anything in response, but then she didn't need to. All that mattered was that she was there and that she believed in him. Somehow, it made him feel a bit more hopeful, a bit more confident.

Maybe it was true that he wasn't ready, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try. That didn't mean he wouldn't succeed.


	4. Change

**Soundtrack: **Dark Island – Áine Minogue

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**Change**

The world never stays still. It is always moving, always transforming. Saplings break free of dampened soil, leaves turn the colour of rust and fall, water is frozen to form mirrors of ice, and then the process will repeat itself all over again, shifting from one to the next as easily as the sun surrenders itself to the moon. It is a cycle of life and death. A cycle of change.

It is a cycle of hope.

Because no one doubts that the flowers will bloom when all that is left are withered stems. No one doubts that the trees will find new crowns of jade, or that ice-trapped waters will shake off their shackles to flow once more. It is expected that the chill of winter will fade, that darkness will always give way to light, and that life will be restored. It is expected because that is the way it has always been, like a spinning wheel of seasons going round and round.

Perhaps that is why she doesn't dismiss his words straight away. She has seen him go through every season, shifting from bad to good and then lingering in the grey areas between. She has seen him wither and freeze, rise and fall, and now he is kneeling before her and begging her for forgiveness. He is telling her that he has changed.

_You told me you'd changed!_

_I have changed!_

Katara meets his pale gold eyes, so different to the angry spark of colour she remembers when they first met. It's just a confirmation of what she already knows—of what she has always known. Because Zuko might have changed, but so has she. Nothing stays still in this world. Not even her.

The chill of winter has passed. It is time for a new beginning.


	5. Serenade

**Soundtrack:** Health to the Company – Blackmore's Night

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**Serenade**

Her voice was low and gentle, holding a magic all of its own. She hadn't noticed his presence yet, and he couldn't help but smile as he watched her lean over the crib, singing softly to the baby who was making futile attempts to grab at her fingers with chubby hands. There were no words to her lullaby, but it whispered of snow-frosted plains and winter nights, of bonfires and stars. It was a song of love and family, and he found his heart ease in response as the melody wrapped around him like a blanket, so warm and comforting.

Katara was still singing when Ursa fell asleep, one hand tucked up under her chin. The waterbender's mouth curved into an affectionate smile and she allowed her fingertip to brush against his daughter's cheek in a caress, smoothing away the fluffy strands of black. Zuko was suddenly reminded of Mai, and he couldn't stop the small gasp that escaped his lips, even as his chest constricted in pain. Just like that the lullaby stopped and those blue eyes were fixed on him.

"Zuko," Katara said, cheeks blossoming with pink. "I didn't know you were—I mean—"

"I heard you singing." He stepped further into the room, pausing when he noticed the dark circles shadowing her eyes. "You know, you don't have to take care of Ursa. Naoko can—"

"Naoko was tired."

He frowned. "That doesn't mean you should exhaust yourself as well. You could have come to me; you could have—"

"Zuko, it's fine," Katara cut in gently. "I wouldn't have offered to stay if it bothered me, and you've got more than enough on your plate to deal with at the moment."

The unspoken words lingered between them. Because his wife was dead. Because the Fire Nation was in turmoil and his advisors seemed content to just let him flail helplessly while the country burned itself to ashes. A lump formed in his throat, painful and choking, and he averted his gaze before she could see the tears prickling at his eyes. He could still feel her watching him, though. No doubt she was trying to decide what she could say to make him feel better. Somehow, that upset him too.

"That song," he said quickly, wanting to change the subject. "It's a Water Tribe lullaby, right?"

Katara looked like she wanted to say something else, but then she nodded. "My mother used to sing it for me when I was little. It did have lyrics, but I've forgotten them now."

Gold locked with blue. "Would you sing it for me?"

A touch of colour stained her cheeks. It was obvious that she was embarrassed, but then she sucked in a small breath and started to sing, a little wobbly at first, but she soon found her rhythm. Zuko closed his eyes and let her voice envelope him, taking him away from all the madness and death that had poisoned the palace, from all the pain and regret. He let her lead him through snowy lands, sharing in her love for the simple pleasure of sitting with friends and family around the hearth, or the way the moon shone so brightly in the sky, lighting the world below in a glow of silver. Instinctively, his hand reached out for hers, and she did not hesitate as she returned his grip, interlacing their fingers.

No words were exchanged between them and not once did he open his eyes. Instead, they stood hand-in-hand together, Ursa sleeping between them, while Katara continued to sing. It was the most peace he had felt since Mai's death, and he knew that he would treasure the moment long afterwards.

He knew that he was glad Katara had stayed.


	6. Desired

Just a warning that there are some sexual references in this one. Nothing graphic, but this ficlet pretty much is the reason my collection has been labelled 'M'. ^_~

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**Soundtrack: **Ankomst – Leaves' Eyes

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**Desired**

His gaze is hot on her skin, burning through the thin cloth that covers her nakedness, and making her feel so exposed. A shiver travels down her spine, but there is no fear, no disgust. She feels oddly exhilarated, as if the fire in his eyes has become a part of her as well, changing her blood to liquid flames and awakening age-old instincts of which she hasn't even known that she was capable. She realises that she wants him to do more than just look. She wants him to touch.

Once, the thought might have frightened her into leaving, but then she and Zuko are not children anymore. The shocks of heat she can feel pulsing at the centre of her core remind her that she is all woman; that she has every right to want this man to satisfy the aching need building within her, because he alone has made her feel desired. He alone has ignited that spark of fire in her blood, so intoxicating and impossible to ignore.

_Please_.

She doesn't say the word aloud, but then she doesn't have to. He is already dipping his head, capturing her lips in a kiss while his hands move caressingly up her arms to tangle in her hair. Her eyes slide shut, and she can feel the flames coil to life inside her as he deepens the kiss, building and building until she cannot bear it any longer. Until the heat is so intense that she is clutching at his back as she lies spread beneath him, pressing her hips shamelessly into his in an attempt to ease the burning ache. His hands grip her thighs, pulling her even closer as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, but it is not enough. The fire is consuming, agonising. It makes her tug at their clothes in desperate need, stripping them both of any barriers so that all that is left between them is the invisible caress of air. So that she can feel his warm, naked body pressing into hers, making her cry out in pain-edged pleasure and relief.

But even then the fire keeps building. It rises and rises until she is seeing stars and all she can do is breathe out his name over and over, her body trembling as the firestorm reaches its final crescendo. He holds her close afterwards, and she rests her face against his chest as embers burn in lazy flickers inside her, whispering of unspoken words and satiated passions.

She has never felt more like a woman. She has never felt more desired.


	7. Pride

**Soundtrack: ** The Russian Dervish – Riverdance

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**Pride**

It had started as a simple sparring match. Nothing serious; just a little test of bending strength to help each other practise for the upcoming battle while also mixing up the monotony of the day. But then Zuko had managed to get Katara immobilised in an embarrassingly small amount of time—she still claimed it was just a fluke and that it would have never happened had Momo not started screeching from the sidelines in a blatant attempt to sabotage her concentration—and so she had called for a rematch. She was, after all, a master waterbender and would have no trouble defeating the prince of the Fire Nation.

Except it hadn't quite worked out that way. They had both improved since their last one-on-one battle at the Spirit Oasis, making them pretty much equal in terms of bending prowess; however, he did have the advantage of having a more offensive form of fighting style. Her visions of an easy win quickly turned to ashes as she once again found herself on her back, pinned under the weight of his body as he straddled her hips and held a flaming fist close to her face, poised to deliver the killing blow. A smirk curled his lips.

"Looks like I win again," he observed in his raspy voice, black strands of hair falling in his eyes.

Katara exhaled in a breath that would have been sure to spout fire had she been a firebender. As it was, she just sounded huffy and had to grit her teeth from saying something nasty in return (especially since Momo seemed to have taken it upon himself to be the prince's cheerleader, and was now jumping up and down on the sidelines with many celebratory chirrups—the traitor). She couldn't believe that Zuko had bested her again, but her pride refused to allow her to accept defeat. She knew that she could—_should_—be able to beat him. So, instead of conceding her loss, she gave one violent twist and managed to free her arms, summoning the spilt water to her hands and creating a wave to shove him off her. He was back on his feet in a second, but she was ready for him this time. Water whipped around her like a transparent shield, lashing out at him when he got too close, and turning to daggers of ice that sliced through the air and forced him to go on the defensive. Now it was her turn to smile.

"What's the matter, Zuko?" she taunted. "Running out of tricks?"

In response, Zuko somersaulted over her water whip and then ran straight for her, fire rocketing from his fists as he closed the gap between them. Her eyes widened and she created an ice slide to speed away from him, hoping to come around for a counterattack so that she could stop him from finding his momentum. It might have worked too, but then strong arms wrapped around her waist, tugging and pulling and bringing them both to the ground. They struggled together for a moment, limbs tangling and bodies sliding up against each other as he tried to pin her down while she tried to squirm away. Grunting in frustration, she managed to knee him in the stomach, making him loosen his grip; then she rolled out from underneath him before he could immobilise her again, panting as she raised herself into a half-crouch. He relaxed his body into a similar stance, keeping his eyes locked with hers.

"You're not going to win, Katara," he said calmly, as if it were just a fact. "It's obvious you're no match for close-range fighting when you don't have a large source of water to aid you."

Katara's eyes narrowed. "And it's obvious to me that you just want me to give up because you're scared I'm going to beat you."

His mouth twitched. "Right, because I got you down twice and almost had you again."

"The first time was a fluke!" she retorted, cheeks burning.

"And the second?"

A scowl twisted her lips, even as her blush darkened. "Just shut up and fight."

So he did, and while Katara did manage to finally pin him down and hold an ice dagger to his throat, he proved to be just as stubborn as her in his refusal to accept defeat. A brief struggle for dominance had her losing her grip on the ice dagger, and then he was slipping away from her as if he were nothing more than smoke escaping through her clenched fists, laughing mockingly all the while. Something seemed to snap in her mind. She didn't care that he was stronger or faster than her; she just launched herself back at him, knocking him to the ground and straddling him as she planted her hands on his bare chest, holding him in place. Zuko grabbed at her waist, already preparing to push her off, but then a wicked smile curved her lips.

"Toph told me a secret, you know," she murmured, holding his gaze as she leaned over him.

He blinked, distracted. "What's that?"

Her smile widened a fraction and she let her fingers trail caressingly down his chest, pausing just a moment when she heard the soft catch of his breath. Then her fingers curled, becoming more like claws, and suddenly the prince was letting out a stream of undignified giggles as he writhed in helpless torment from what Sokka had once labelled Katara's Terrible Tickle Attack of Doom. Maybe Zuko was right that she had struggled to defeat him in close combat, but she'd like to see him escape her clutches now. She'd have him reduced to a grovelling mess in no time.

"S-stop," Zuko gasped out in between giggles. "Ca-can't … breathe."

"Can't firebend if you can't breathe either," Katara pointed out, if a little smugly.

He curled up into himself and tried to wriggle away, attempting to stop her hands from reaching his stomach, but she wasn't letting him escape that easily. Instead, she increased the vigour of her tickling, winding him into gasping helplessness just as effectively as if she had punched him in the gut. It wasn't long before little tears were glistening on his cheeks and, as soon as he had enough air in his lungs, he once again pleaded for her to stop.

"Thi-this … isn't … f-fair," he complained.

"I'm sorry," she said with indecent relish, "but I don't remember there being a rule stating that I couldn't tickle you into submission."

He threw her a glare, but the effect was rather ruined by the fact that he giggled a split-second later, unable to resist the ticklish powers of her hands. Another ten seconds of this and he was slapping his hand on the ground, writhing underneath her in laughter-choked distress as he demanded she let him go because he couldn't breathe.

"S-seriously," he added. "Can't … bre-breathe."

"What's the magic word?"

"Katara!"

"That's not the magic word," she sing-songed.

"Please!" he gasped.

Katara immediately stilled her hands, and for a moment Zuko just lay there underneath her, one arm covering his eyes as he breathed in and out in deep, grateful gasps. She could feel his chest rising and falling with the motion, gradually slowing down as he got his body under control.

"I'm going to kill Toph," he muttered, still not looking at her.

Katara laughed and clambered off him, brushing the dust from her clothes as she got back to her feet. "Well, either way, I think that evened up the scales a bit, don't you?"

He lowered his arm, glaring at her as his unscarred cheek splotched with pink. "Shut up."

She just grinned, glad that she wasn't the only one who had felt her pride be shredded to pieces that day. Even Momo seemed to understand that Zuko had committed the unsalvageable with his undignified giggles and let out a final screech before flying off towards the campsite, as if to say that he washed his hands off the prince.

"You lost your fan-lemur," Katara observed.

Zuko blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Never mind," she said with a smile.

Because they both might have felt their pride get bruised, but she and Momo knew who had been the true victor.


	8. Prejudice

**Soundtrack:** Steiner's Stealth – Nobuo Uematsu

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**Prejudice**

Zuko wasn't prejudiced. He just didn't particularly care for frozen plains that made him feel like he was back in the Boiling Rock coolers, or food that looked like something a komodo-rhino had sicked up, or blue. So much blue.

"How long do we have to stay here again?" he asked Toph, who was sitting beside him and throwing long-suffering looks at the furry boots she had been forced to wear.

"Until the wedding feast is over, I guess." She wriggled her feet with a scowl. "Can't come soon enough. I can barely sense anything through these shoes and all this ice."

Zuko nodded in agreement, only to remember that she probably couldn't see the action. He frowned and returned his attention to the bowl of food resting on his lap. Katara had called it stewed sea prunes, but it really did just look like a bunch of large slugs sloshing around in some bland-looking liquid. If he was in the Fire Nation, he would not be subjected to such tasteless slop. Or the cold. Or the endless, endless shades of blue that seemed to greet his eyes no matter where he looked.

"Seriously, what is it with these people and blue?" he muttered, prodding at the stewed slug things with a scowl.

Toph let out an undignified snort. "You're one to talk, Mr I-Can-Only-Wear-Red."

"What would you know? You're blind."

"Exactly, and I still know that you always wear red."

A crease formed on his brow. "Well, it's different for me. I'm the Fire Lord. I have to wear my nation's colour."

She snorted again. "Right."

Zuko's eyes narrowed, but then he just sighed. "Besides, I don't _always _wear red," he added under his breath.

"I heard that, and yeah you do."

The Fire Lord knew a losing battle when he saw one and decided not to deign her with a response. Instead, he gave another unenthusiastic prod to his … _food_ and wondered if Sokka would let him have some dried seal jerky later. The meat might be salty and dry as wood, but at least it was semi-edible. Well, for Water Tribe food, anyway.

He was still brooding over his dinner dilemma when Katara stopped in front of him. "How are you enjoying your stewed sea prunes?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, they're great." He picked up one of the sea prunes on his spoon and let it drop back to the bowl with a splash. "Really delicious."

Katara's smile wilted. "You haven't even tried it yet, have you?"

"It doesn't exactly look very appetising," he said honestly.

Maybe she liked to eat food that looked like slugs swimming in komodo-rhino sick, but he most definitely did not.

"You're just not giving it a chance," Katara argued, taking a seat on his other side. "It might not look very appetising, but stewed sea prunes are actually really good. Everyone loves them! Here—" she scooped another one of the sluggy looking things onto his spoon and held it out for him. "Try it."

"I'd really rather n—"

"Just try it!"

Zuko met her gaze—her blue, blue gaze—and then he sighed. "Fine, but I can feed myself, you know."

A grin curved her lips. "Of course."

Sparing her only a brief glare, Zuko took the spoon out of her hand and shoved the stewed sea prune into his mouth. His first thought was that it felt very rubbery and slimy; then the taste hit his tongue and his face screwed up as if he'd just bit into a lemon—though the flavour was more like something that had been found dead under a rock. Gagging, he placed a hand over his mouth, which was the only thing that stopped him from spitting the disgusting mouthful all over Katara. He didn't need to look to his left to know that Toph was laughing in open amusement at him.

"I guess stewed sea prunes really are an acquired taste," Katara mused, tapping a finger to her chin.

Zuko finally managed to swallow the slimy monstrosity. "Remind me never to accept food from you again," he muttered, still looking a bit green. "Especially not if it's Water Tribe cuisine."

Toph clutched at her stomach, still chuckling. "Oh, that was priceless!" she exclaimed. "I don't even have to be able to see to know how ridiculous you just looked."

Pale gold eyes flickered with irritation, but the earthbender was immune to his scowls (being blind kind of had that effect). Even Katara couldn't quite hide her smile, which only aggravated Zuko even more, but then their eyes met and he was once again struck by the sheer vibrancy of her blue irises. Those blue, blue irises. He didn't hear what she said to him in parting as she left to join her grandmother; he did, however, feel the elbow that nudged him sharply in his ribs.

Zuko blinked out of his daze. "What was that for?" he demanded, rubbing his side as he glared at the girl sitting beside him.

"Oh, nothing," she said innocently. "I just thought that, for someone who seems to be so against the Water Tribe, you sure were fascinated by a certain waterbender just then—that is, if your heart rate was anything to go by."

A faint tinge of pink stained his unscarred cheek. "What? I didn't even—" he broke off as a thought occurred to him. "Hey, I thought you said you couldn't sense much with those boots on."

"I can't," she said cheerfully, "but thanks for confirming my suspicions."

Zuko placed his head in his hands. There was no doubt about it: he was really, really looking forward to returning to the Fire Nation.

* * *

Note: This ficlet is actually a prequel of sorts to 'Of Bugs and Slugs', which can be found in the _Sun and Moon _collection.


	9. Sublime

**Soundtrack:** Passion (slow) – Utada Hikaru

* * *

**Sublime**

Light dances on her closed eyelids, weaving shadowy patterns that flicker in orange and red. She exhales softly and listens to the wind rustling through the leaves and, as the rest of the world fades out, to the steady breaths coming from the man beside her. She can almost see the way his chest rises and falls, pale skin glowing in golden hues from the afternoon sunlight; see the dark hair falling in his eyes to veil his features, yet never enough to hide his scar. Her hand moves through the grass, reaching out to trace his calloused fingers, and a faint smile curves her lips when he returns the gesture.

She doesn't know how long they lie there like that, hands intertwined. Time has ceased to exist in this meadow, but then he shifts closer and she can feel his warm breath on her face, caressing her lips like the touch of butterfly wings. Her smile widens a fraction, and she opens her eyes to meet his pale gold irises. For a moment they just stare at each other, and then he lowers his head and presses his mouth against hers, using his tongue to speak to her in words so ancient and passionate that they can only be expressed in their purest, physical form.

It is not the first kiss they have shared, but there is something incredibly intimate about the way his fingertips brush against her cheek, following the curve of her jaw to tangle in her hair. It is as if all of her senses have become hyperaware, drawing her into a world where only he exists: a blend of intoxicating kisses and warm caresses that make her heart flutter and her soul reach out to unite with his.

"I love you."

The words escape his lips in a whisper, almost like a sigh. Her arms tighten around him in response, pressing her body close against his solid warmth. There is no moment more perfect, more sublime.

She does not hesitate when she tells him that she feels the same.


	10. Affliction

**Soundtrack:** Ayeshteni – Natacha Atlas

* * *

**Affliction**

He is like a thorn in her side. A big, stupid, firebending thorn, and he is currently shirtless. Damn.

She averts her gaze, refusing to look at that expanse of bared, sinewy flesh. There should be a rule that states Fire Nation princes have to wear clothes at all times while on the Western Air Temple premises. It's indecent the way he struts about, looking all—all _male_ with his toned arms and defined abdomen and—

Oh spirits. Why can't she stop staring at him?

_Don't look, Katara!_ she scolds herself. _Don't you dare look! He is evil. He betrayed you. He is—he is walking towards you._

Scrambling to her feet, and hoping that her blush isn't as vibrant as it feels, she raises her chin as she meets the firebender's gaze. "What do you want?"

Her tone is anything but welcoming, and the smile hinted in the curve of his lips quickly fades in response, becoming more of a grimace. Naturally, she isn't disappointed. She doesn't want to see his stupid smile anyway. Because it is not charming. Not at all.

"Aang and I were planning to collect some more food to go with tonight's dinner," Zuko says, rubbing the back of his neck. "There are a lot of fruit trees around here; I just thought I'd see if there was anything you wanted in particular. I, uh, noticed you don't like papaya."

The colour on her cheeks darkens. She folds her arms across her chest and tries to gain control of her unruly blood, irritated that he is making her feel so flustered. So what if he took the time to ask her what fruit she prefers because he noticed that she doesn't like papaya. She's sure anyone else would have done the same had they paid attention (_but they didn't_, her mind helpfully reminds her), and it doesn't change the way she feels about him. Because there is nothing sweet about his gesture. Not at all.

"I like mangos," she answers after a moment, if a little sourly.

If he is bothered by her tone, he doesn't show it. Instead his mouth does that almost-smile twitch again (_not charming!_), and his gaze locks with hers. She can't help but note that his eyes look very golden and warm in that moment, and somehow this bothers her as well.

"Great," he says in his raspy voice. "Then I'll bring you back some mangos."

Katara looks the other way, still with her arms folded. "Yeah, whatever."

Zuko hesitates, as if he wants to say something else, but then he just sighs and heads towards the fountain to collect Aang. She bites her lip as she watches his progress, conscious of the fluttery feeling in her stomach and the way her heart keeps pounding like a wild drum. There really should be a rule that states Fire Nation princes have to wear shirts at all times, and maybe one where almost-smiles are prohibited. In fact, there should just be a rule that he isn't allowed to be around her at all, because she is so tired of being afflicted with all of these confusing feelings.

He really is a thorn in her side. A big, stupid, firebending thorn, and she wishes that she could stop thinking about him. She wishes that she could stop feeling so attracted to Prince Zuko.


	11. Intimacy

**Soundtrack: **Calling the Rain – Trobar de Morte

* * *

**Intimacy**

He finds her standing in the garden, face raised to the sky and with her palms outstretched as the rain falls around her, caressing her lips and skin in watery kisses. Slowly, she begins to spin, revelling in her element—in the water that hums in the muggy, Fire Nation air and sings within her blood. She is content, happy, and he cannot help but smile in response. She always did love the rain.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asks, leaning against a pillar under the cover of the stone archway.

Katara pauses and faces him with her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. "You can come and join me if you like."

He shakes his head. "I think I'll leave you to it."

"Come on, Zuko." She walks towards him, reaching for his hands. "Come and dance with me."

"W-wait," he splutters. "Katara, I don't—"

Suddenly, the archway sheltering him is gone, and he is standing out in the garden with her, feeling fat droplets of water splatter on his hair and face. A scowl forms on his mouth—because whatever Katara might think of their current weather, he does not like getting wet—but then she is pulling him closer, pressing her damp body against his as she places one of his hands on her hip while she clasps the other. Then, as she rests her chin on his shoulder, she guides them into a slow sway.

"This is ridiculous," Zuko mutters, looking straight ahead, and feeling his cheeks warm in the telltale signs of a blush.

"Is the Fire Lord too good for dancing with a lowly waterbender like myself?"

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it," he retorts grumpily. "What if someone sees us?"

"What if they do?"

He glances down to meet her gaze. She is smiling, if a little teasingly, and his blush darkens. "I—well, they might get the wrong idea."

Katara's grin widens, and he can feel her hands sliding up his chest, coming to rest on the nape of his neck. "Is that such a bad thing?"

His heart quickens. "What?"

She laughs and stands up on her tiptoes, leaning in closer. "Sometimes you're so stupid, Zuko."

It is only a second before he feels her lips brush against his, soft and caressing. To say that he is shocked is an understatement; in that moment he cannot move, cannot breathe—even his heart seems to have stopped. But then she starts to pull away, and the paralysis that holds him frozen wears off, allowing him to follow her movement and return the pressure of her lips while his free hand tangles in her hair, holding her in place. He can feel the imprint of her smile against his mouth, and his arm tightens around her waist as he deepens the kiss, tasting the rain on her lips and something else—something distinctly _her_.

There is no moment more intimate, more _right_, and it is only the need for oxygen that has them breaking apart. He rests his forehead against hers as he tries to catch his breath, even as the rain continues to fall softly around them, but then she steps back.

"So," she says, meeting his gaze with a grin, "are you still worried about people getting the wrong idea?"

"Oh, shut up," he mutters, and kisses her again.


	12. Mistake

**Soundtrack:** Kiss with a Fist – Florence + the Machine

* * *

**Mistake**

It was a mistake. It wasn't like he had intended to walk in on the waterbender bathing. He certainly hadn't planned on pausing to admire the way the water caressed her umber-tan skin, helplessly following the droplets as they traced feminine curves that had been barely concealed by the dark veil of her hair …

Okay, yeah. He had been perving a little, but it wasn't his fault! She had just been there. Naked. What was he supposed to do?

"Get out!" Katara screamed, using one arm to cover her breasts while the other summoned a violent wave of water to shove him back.

Oh, right. That.

"Look, I'm sorry!" Zuko tried to explain, covering his eyes with his hand as he made his ignoble retreat, now dripping with water. "I didn't know you were here!"

"I don't care!" A water whip lashed against his arm. "Just get _out_!"

He heard the second whip come towards him like a sharp crack of steel, and instinct made him roll to avoid the attack. Unfortunately, he also lowered his make-shift blindfold in the process, and what he saw when he leapt back to his feet had his unscarred cheek matching the other for colour and a few incoherent sounds escaping his lips.

_Boobs. _

Yeah, that was the reason for his current brain malfunction. Katara had sacrificed modesty for the sake of making a full-scale attack, and now he had a front-row seat to the Accidental Boob Flashing show. Realising that he was staring again, Zuko clamped his hand back over his eyes, his whole neck and ears burning; however, he hadn't been quick enough to stop Katara from noticing where his glazed gaze had been focussed.

It was official: he definitely wasn't going to make it out of this alive.

Water lashed out at him as she shrieked something that might have been a death threat, but it was a bit hard to tell when her words were echoing off the cave walls like a battle gong, making it sound as if hundreds of Kataras were screaming at him.

"Katara, please!" he yelled over the racket. "It was an accident! I never meant to look, I swear!"

But she did not want to hear his apologies. Instead he suddenly found himself with a face full of water—a face full of water that kept on pushing and pushing until he was choking and coughing, landing unceremoniously on his backside outside of the cave. He sighed and pushed the wet hair away from his face, glaring at the shadowed entrance.

"It was a mistake," Zuko muttered bitterly.

But she had not believed him, and he knew that the image of her naked body would continue to taunt him for a very, very long time afterwards.


	13. Festival

**Soundtrack: **Bibit Aleum – Corvus Corax

* * *

**Festival**

The hall was stifling hot and overflowing with soldiers and nobles. Drums pounded in a hypnotic rhythm as the three females danced on the small stage in the centre, swaying their hips to the beat and spinning round and round so that red silk fluttered around their bodies like flames. It was the girl on the left who caught Zuko's attention, though. Her skin was darker than that of any other woman he had seen, and he had noticed when their eyes had met that her irises were very, very blue. He wondered where she had come from; she was clearly not a typical Fire Nation girl.

She threw her head back and clapped twice, making the gold bangles on her ankles and wrists clink together while her dark hair streamed out in a chestnut wave. The music shifted and he watched, entranced, as she began to move faster and faster, keeping up with the wild, pulsing rhythm. Suddenly, it was much too hot in the room. Much, much too hot. He swallowed and reached for his cup when an arm was thrown around his shoulders, nearly making him spill his drink all down his front.

"Enjoying the festival, cousin?" Lu Ten asked, taking a seat next to the younger prince.

Zuko frowned and wiped some of the droplets away from his armour. "It's fine, I guess."

"Fine?" Lu Ten repeated in mock-outrage. "It's not just fine; it's the best damn Lóng Xuè Zhànshì Festival we've had in these parts for years! Isn't that right, boys?"

The soldiers gathered around the table roared and stamped their feet, raising their cups in toast. Lu Ten grinned and slapped Zuko on the shoulder, once again nearly making the younger prince lose his drink.

"You see, little cousin. You just need to let loose and have fun. Stop being so serious all the time."

Zuko made a noncommittal sound and shrugged free of his cousin's grip, then placed his cup back down on the table before Lu Ten really did manage to make him spill the contents. His gaze settled back on the dancing girl, helplessly drawn to the hypnotic sway of her hips and way her breasts strained against the red silk covering her nakedness, among other things …

"Ahh," Lu Ten said, following the direction of Zuko's gaze. "I see what has you so pensive now. You've got your eye on the little Water Tribe girl."

Zuko blinked and glanced back at his cousin, cheeks flushing with warmth. "W-what?"

Lu Ten flashed his teeth in a grin. "No need to be embarrassed. You're a man now; you've fought your first battle and have proven yourself a fearless warrior. No one is going to look twice if you want to try putting your sword in a different kind of sheath, if you know what I mean."

Zuko, unfortunately, did know what Lu Ten had meant, and the thought of doing that with the dancing girl had his cheeks darkening to a rich plum. "I'm not—I never said—"

"But your eyes did," Lu Ten interrupted with a chuckle. "I saw the way you were looking at her, and I must say that I can see why. She's quite the exotic little flower, and curvy too."

Zuko just groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Please, just go away," he muttered.

"No can do, little cousin." The arm went back around Zuko's shoulders. "You know, it's an unspoken rite of passage to have your first woman after your first battle. I'd be neglecting my duty as your commander in chief and older cousin if I didn't give you a nudge in the right direction." He suited action to word, digging his elbow into Zuko's ribs. "I can even have her delivered to your room as a gift if you like; all you have to do is say the word and she's yours."

The younger prince was quiet for a moment. To say that the offer was tempting was an understatement. He was seventeen years old and was as hot-blooded as any male, but he was also shy around women. Painfully so. Tell him to take on a regiment of powerful Earthbenders and he'd be right up the front, flame-tipped swords flashing as he cut down all in his path. Tell him to take on one female with whom he wanted to spend the night and he would turn into a bumbling mess of awkwardness before making a hasty retreat. It was pitiful, and he knew that it wouldn't matter if the dancing girl was waiting naked for him on his bed; he'd still manage to botch it up somehow.

Zuko exhaled in a sigh and raised his face from his palms, looking back at the dark-skinned dancer. She _was_ very beautiful, and she looked to be about his age. But wait, had his cousin said she was from the Water Tribes?

"What's a Water Tribe girl doing with a Fire Nation dancing troupe?" he asked, casting a glance at the older prince.

Lu Ten shrugged. "Probably got captured during one of the raids. Exotic flowers have always been prized amongst the slave trade—especially a pretty little thing like that."

Zuko frowned and watched the girl—the _slave_—dance for her audience with all the sensuousness and fluidity of the element that represented her people. One of the high-ranking officers who had been seated near the stage made a stumbling grab for her, drink sloshing out of his cup and onto the floor. His fingers just managed to snag on the red silk strips trailing from her arms, and he laughed a loud, grating laugh as he tugged the girl from the stage to his lap. Zuko didn't hesitate; one moment he was sitting there next to his cousin, and the next he was vaulting over the table and bringing out one his dao blades, sticking the point of the broadsword to the officer's throat.

"Let her go," he ordered in a low, dangerous voice.

The officer tightened his hold on the struggling girl, and an ugly glint entered his eyes. "Or you'll do what?" he sneered.

Royalty or not, Zuko was still the son of a traitor. Respect was not easily gained for someone like him, despite his best efforts to restore the honour that his father had tainted. There was also the fact that, as a low-level soldier, Zuko had no right to question his superior officer—something they both knew—but the prince in question didn't much care about the rules in that moment. Instead, his pale gold eyes blazed and he was about to tell the man exactly what he would do when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. Zuko repressed a sigh; he didn't even need to look to know that it was Lu Ten.

"What my cousin is trying to say, Captain," Lu Ten said with his charming smile as he pushed the broadsword aside and stepped between the two, "is that he has already claimed this girl for the night. Isn't that right, Prince Zuko?"

Blue eyes suddenly locked with his, fierce and wary. Zuko blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I, er, well, I actually—"

"Had done just that!" Lu Ten finished for him, smiling even more broadly. "And since our young Zuko was the hero of the day and is the reason we are all here celebrating the Lóng Xuè Zhànshì Festival right now instead of still fighting on a bloody battlefield, you know that he does, by right, get first pickings. So—" He helped the dancing girl off the stunned man's lap and then handed her over to Zuko "—she will go to him, you will find someone else, and then we can all be happy."

The officer muttered something under his breath that suggested he was far from feeling joyful at the sudden turn of events, but he didn't bother to argue and marched off to get another drink. Lu Ten winked at his younger cousin and mouthed something that might have been "good luck" before strolling off to join some of his friends. That left Zuko with the dancing girl—a girl who was now staring at him with one eyebrow raised and her mouth slightly pursed.

"Hero of the day, are you?" she observed, planting one hand on her hip. "Well, I suppose I should be honoured that you chose me for your first pickings."

Zuko's eyes narrowed. Was she mocking him?

"Hey, I just saved you from that guy," he said a little defensively, throwing his hand out in the direction of the officer.

"So you could have me for yourself?" She laughed and shook her head. "Yeah, that was really chivalrous of you."

"I didn't—I mean, I was just trying to—" He sighed and slid his sword back into the sheath strapped to his back. "Forget it."

The girl's lips twitched. "What, the great hero is giving up already?"

Zuko scowled. "You know, for a dancing girl, you've got quite a mouth on you."

"And for a Fire Nation prince, you're really quite terrible at putting your thoughts into words."

"Yeah, well, my fireballs generally do the talking for me."

She scrunched her nose in distaste, and it suddenly occurred to him how that might have sounded. Warmth rushed through his cheeks, reaching all the way to the tips of his ears.

"I didn't mean fireballs as in, you know, _that_," he said quickly, still blushing. "I meant fireballs as in battle fireballs. You know, bending. Not—not _that_."

"I believe you," she said, mouth twitching again. "One look at that vibrant blush on your face tells me that you weren't trying to make an innuendo."

Zuko groaned and leant against the pillar next to him, hiding his face against his arm. He had known that he would manage to botch this up somehow, and he had been right. He couldn't even talk to the girl without humiliating himself in some form or another. This was ridiculous.

A soft chuckle had him raising his head, and he turned to see the Water Tribe girl watching him with a much friendlier glint in her eyes.

"You know," she observed, "you're not at all what I expected you to be."

His brow creased. "What were you expecting?"

"Arrogant, demanding, dominating. The usual." A smile curved her lips. "But you—you're just kind of awkward."

"Thanks," he said dryly. "That's really comforting."

She laughed again and then stepped closer, looking up at him with those blue, blue eyes. "I'm guessing you really were just trying to help me earlier, weren't you? You don't seem like the type to think that he has a right to first pickings, prince or not."

Zuko sighed. "My cousin delights in tormenting me. I'm sorry that you got dragged into it."

"I see."

"Not that I don't find you attractive," he added hastily. "You're really something when you dance." Another blush. "I mean, uh, you're a good dancer. Yes."

Her smile widened a fraction. "Thank you, Prince Zuko. That is fine praise coming from you."

Zuko frowned. He had a feeling that she was mocking him again.

The girl flicked a stray lock of hair away from her face. "You know, you still haven't asked me for my name."

He blinked. "Oh, right. What—"

"It's Katara." Her eyes danced with amusement, though there was a disquieting edge to her smile. "And apparently I'll be your pickings for the night."

Zuko shifted uncomfortably. Somehow, he didn't see himself completing that male rite of passage with this particular dancing girl.

* * *

Note: I'm actually considering expanding on this to make it into a chaptered fic of sorts, so state now if you're interested. Who knows, it might just give me the incentive I need. ^_~


	14. Stranger

**Soundtrack: **To Glory – Two Steps From Hell

* * *

**Stranger**

Sweat dripped down her forehead. They were completely surrounded, she had no water source to boost the measly drops left in her flask, and the masked stranger seemed to be a nonbender who relied on swords. The odds were not looking good for either of them.

Instinctively, she pressed herself closer to his back, one hand holding a ball of water over her palm in case she needed to defend. She could feel the tension in the warrior's muscles through his tunic and the way he was barely restraining himself from lashing out with his dao swords, as if he were a coiled spring waiting to be unleashed. Somehow, that was comforting. At least one of them wasn't afraid.

"Think you can handle the four on your side?" she muttered, turning her head slightly to look at him.

He didn't respond; instead he rushed forward in a blur of blue and black, dao blades glinting like silver lightning as he sliced a path through his opponents. Katara didn't have time to be amazed at his speed and grace; a rock flashed past her face, just grazing her cheek, and she quickly turned to retaliate with a water whip. Great, they had an earthbender.

Heart pounding against her ribs like a wild drum, she ducked and weaved, countering and defending against the rest of the mercenaries' attacks the best that she could while trying not to let herself get flanked. She didn't have enough water to form either the pentapus or octopus forms—the only bending moves that would allow her to defend from so many men at once—but she was still a waterbending master, and she would not be defeated so easily.

Her eyes snapped towards the man with the spear; he was already preparing to strike, but she used her water whip to snatch the weapon from his hands and then countered with her breath of ice, freezing his feet in place. A smug smile curled her lips as she watched him flounder, trying to keep his balance and, at the same time, break free of his icy shackles. He wasn't going to be attacking her anytime soon. Two roars of anger echoed in her ears, and then the other two nonbenders were upon her, weapons slicing and hacking, but never quite making contact with her skin. Being chased all over the world by an angry Fire Nation prince did have its benefits now and then. Learning how to dodge faster was just one of them.

More sweat rolled down her forehead as the battle dragged on, and she could feel the back of her neck getting steadily damper, making her hair stick to her skin. She was on the defensive now, despite her speed, for waterbending was not designed for close-combat fighting—not unless one had access to a large source of water. To make things worse, the earthbender seemed determined to smash her into a pulp, though he was clearly untrained. If he were as skilled as Toph, he would have just locked her up in a cage of rock by now.

"What's the matter, girlie?" the earthbender taunted. "Running out of water?"

"Why don't you come over here and find out!" Katara retorted, gathering her element around her like a shield and then letting it fly forward at all three of her opponents in daggers of ice.

The earthbender blocked her attack with his bending, but one of the nonbenders was not so lucky and was soon pinned and bleeding on the ground. A sword lunged for her face before she could catch her breath, making her step back and just miss having the tip of the blade slice through her chin. Her heart gave a funny lurch in her chest, but there was no time for a respite. The mercenary was already counterattacking, and the rocks kept coming, and she was just getting so tired. It had been days since she'd had a proper meal or full night's sleep; she didn't know how much longer she could keep this up.

Another rock soared towards her with bone-crushing force. Katara gritted her teeth and caught it with her water, guiding it around her like a tornado before sending it back towards the earthbender. She didn't wait to see if it connected; instead, she swung around to defend against the remaining nonbender, but he was nowhere to be seen. Heart thumping, she licked her cracked lips and was about to turn again when hands suddenly clamped down on her wrists, dragging her arms up behind her back and making her drop her precious water.

"What are you going to do now, little girl?" a voice taunted in her ear. "You can't bend if you can't move your hands."

Katara inhaled sharply, hearing the mocking laughter of her tormentors ring in her ears. The earthbender was already walking forward, leering in a way that made goose-chicken bumps prickle all over her skin. She wondered if she would be able to freeze him with her breath if he came close enough, but then something flashed past her and the earthbender halted, almost pushed backwards. His green eyes widened and he looked down at his chest where she could see a dagger protruding from his ribs. Suddenly, the nonbender holding her immobilised let out a yelp and the fingers digging into her wrist slackened and then were wrenched free. She turned to see the masked warrior knock the man out with the flat of his blades.

"Thanks," she gasped, rubbing her bruised skin.

He raised his head to look at her through the slits of his mask, and his body tensed for a second before he tackled her around the middle, pulling them both to the ground and shielding her with his warm weight. Something heavy glided past their heads—a rock. It seemed the earthbender had not been incapacitated like she had presumed.

Rolling off her, the swordsman leapt back to his feet and then charged after the earthbender, dodging and deflecting the rocky projectiles fired his way. She thought he might even make it, but then one of the jagged bits of earth slipped past his guard, hitting him in the stomach and making him stumble back to the ground. Katara immediately took up a bending stance, summoning the spilt water to her hands and using water whips to distract the other bender so she could give the masked warrior some cover.

"You alright?" she called.

For answer, he got back to his feet and then made another dash for the earthbender, swords already poised to strike. This time Katara helped to stop the rocks from getting in his way, weaving threads of water that snatched and deflected, giving him a clear path to his target. There was a flash of steel as the two males came into contact, and then it was over. The earthbender fell to his knees, blood gurgling from his mouth, and then slumped face-first into the ground.

Katara took the moment to catch her breath, watching as the swordsman knelt down to retrieve his dagger, which he wiped clean on the earthbender's tunic and then sheathed.

"Did you kill him?" she couldn't help but ask.

The swordsman shook his head, then tapped the hilt of his blade. Ah, another one that had been knocked out, though it looked as if the bender had been wounded quite badly. She examined the rest of the clearing, taking in the damage. The other mercenaries had fled, taking their fallen comrades with them except for the two that had fought to the end. Even the one whose feet she had frozen had managed to escape.

Katara glanced at her masked ally, only to realise that he was leaving. "Hey!" she called, running to catch up to him. "Wait up!"

He swung back to face her, making a sharp gesture with his hand. Was he trying to tell her to go away?

"What, I'm not good enough company for you now that there is no one trying to kill you?" Katara demanded, planting her hands on her hips. "Nice way to show your gratitude to the person who just helped you take down those mercenaries."

He made a frustrated sound from behind his mask and then carried on walking, ignoring her completely. Katara was having none of that, however, and quickened her pace to match his stride. If he noticed her following him, he didn't say or do anything. Maybe he hoped that she would just give up and leave him alone if he pretended that she didn't exist long enough. Fat chance. She had finally got a good look at his mask, and it occurred to her that it looked exactly like the one she had seen on those wanted posters all over the Earth Kingdom.

"You're the Blue Spirit, right?" she asked, peering up at him as they walked.

He nodded, if a little reluctantly.

"So how come the Fire Nation wants to capture you so badly? What did you do?"

His whole body tensed, and she noticed the way his shoulders hunched forward as if her questions were little darts that he was trying to shield against. Instead of responding, however, he just clenched his hands into fists and carried on walking, though now at a much faster pace. Katara frowned and followed in his footsteps.

"Alright, don't tell me," she said to his back. "It's not like I'm going to force it out of you."

When he still didn't slow down, her eyes narrowed and she couldn't stop the small huff of annoyance that escaped her lips.

"Great, just keep ignoring me then." She sighed and stretched the muscles in her arms, trying to relieve the aches and stiffness. "I can see that you're going to be a really fun travelling companion."

That did get a response out of him, but all he did was make another choked noise and then kneel down on the ground to scratch something into the dirt with his finger. It occurred to her that he probably couldn't talk, and she stopped beside him to get a better look at what he had written.

"I never asked you to follow me," she read aloud. "Well, that's too bad, because I have no idea where I am and you're the only person around here whom I can trust not to try to kill me."

More characters appeared in the gritty dirt.

"What happened to my friends?" She met the shadowed eye slits, wondering how he had even known that she had been travelling with others. Had they met before? "We got separated," she answered finally, staring down at her hands. "These people were chasing us, and I—" a blush stained her cheeks. "Never mind. All you need to know is that I'm here, and they're—" she waved her hand airily off into the distance "—somewhere out there."

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

"I'm sure they are looking for me," she said a little tartly. "It's not like they'd just abandon me out here."

Or so she kept reminding herself. Everyone had been so caught up in escaping the crazy tank thing that they hadn't even noticed that she had fallen out of the saddle. Even now, she didn't know how it had happened. Maybe she had just dozed off for a moment, but suddenly she had opened her eyes to discover that she was falling and Appa and the others were flying away into the distance. She had shouted out to them, but they hadn't heard her cries and then it was too late. The bison was gone, taking her brother and friends with him, and she had continued to fall, plummeting past rock-faces and branches that snagged at her clothes, until she had hit her head on something hard and the world had gone black.

She supposed she should be glad that the people manning the crazy tank had not found her when she was unconscious, but waking up to find herself stranded in the middle of nowhere had not exactly been a bundle of joy either. Her luck had just got worse from there, and now the only person who seemed to be able to help her was this silent stranger—and he had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her.

A light tug on her wrist had her looking back down at the swordsman. He pointed to the dirt, where new words had been written.

"I don't know who was chasing us," she said, shaking her head. "All I saw was a crazy tank that somehow managed to keep pace with our flying bison and was clearly determined to kill us."

His grip tightened on her wrist, but he wasn't looking at her and was instead staring out to where she had pointed. She could practically feel the tension rolling off him in waves, but his expression was hidden behind the cover of his mask; there was no way for her to tell what he was thinking.

"What?" Katara prompted when he didn't move. "What's wrong?"

The Blue Spirit released her and then wrote something on the dirt. The characters were uneven and blurring into one another from his haste, but she could still make out the words. It seemed that they had a common enemy; he had been tracking the tank's progress earlier, but then his ostrich horse had got stolen by those mercenaries and he'd no choice but to make a detour. If she helped him find Scratch, he would help her find her friends.

Katara held out her hand. "It's a deal."

The Blue Spirit stood up and cautiously took her hand, not once breaking eye contact. Her lips curved into a grin and then she pushed the dusty hair out of her face, turning towards the opposite direction.

"Right, let's go find Scratch!" She paused, glancing back at him. "Uh … how do we do that exactly?"

The Blue Spirit sighed and walked past her, shaking his head. Katara frowned as he once again didn't bother to wait for her. It seemed that her first instinct had been right: he was going to be a really _fun _travelling companion.


	15. Wonderland

**Soundtrack:** The Ancients – Nobuo Uematsu

* * *

**Wonderland**

Katara smiled and snuggled up against the warm body beside her, throwing her arm over a bare chest. Her breath caught. Wait, warm body? Cautiously, she opened one eye and then froze, taking in the pale skin, dark hair, and the ever-damning scar. Golden irises met hers, and a sleepy smile curved the boy's mouth as he propped himself up on his elbow, moving closer and closer and—

"Gyah!" Katara cried, planting her hand over his mouth to stop their lips from connecting. "What are you doing?"

Zuko—for it was indeed the prince, minus his usual scowl—chuckled and pulled her hand away with light fingers on her wrist. "It's just a kiss, Katara."

Her eyes widened. "Just a kiss? Just a _kiss_? Are you crazy?"

They were enemies! He stole her necklace and tied her to a tree! How dare he think that he could just kiss her! And since when did he call her 'Katara'?

But the prince did not seem to understand the great crime he had almost committed; indeed, he just leaned a little closer and stared into her eyes, as if searching for whatever cog had come loose in her brain.

As if he thought that _she_ was the crazy one.

"Did you hit your head or something?" he asked, tilting her face towards him as he ran his fingers through her hair, checking for any signs of bumps.

Katara's cheeks burned. And that—what was with that? He was supposed to scowl and rage and blast fire everywhere. Not act all concerned and touch her face, and—

"Okay, stop!" she snapped, breaking free of his grip and getting to her feet. "I don't know what's going on here, but you are not supposed to be like this, and I—" she stared around the room, feeling her stomach plummet when she didn't recognise a single bit of it. "Where am I?"

"You're in my room," he said with a frown. "You know that; you were the one who came to visit me." He stood up and took a step closer, half-reaching out to her. "Katara, are you sure that—"

But she didn't wait to hear what he had been going to say. Instead, she raced through the door, only to scream as she found herself tumbling and tumbling into nonexistent space. She fell for so long that she grew bored of screaming, but then a desert came into view and her rapid descent suddenly slowed, allowing her to step onto the ground. Unfortunately, she was back facing the Fire Nation prince.

"You!" she groaned. "What are you doing here? I thought I just left you!"

Zuko rubbed the back of his neck, looking confused. "What?"

Katara opened her mouth to speak when she realised that this was not the same Zuko whom she had woken up beside. This one actually had a full head of hair, and he was wearing Earth Kingdom clothes.

"What is going on?" she groaned, covering her face with her hands.

A hand touched her shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"

Oh, great. This one was full of concern and gentle gestures as well.

Katara removed her hands, meeting his pale gold eyes. His far too warm, far too friendly eyes. Something was clearly wrong here.

"Pinch me," she ordered.

"Huh?"

"Just pinch me!"

So he did, and it hurt like hell.

"Why'd you do that?" she demanded, rubbing her arm.

"You told me to do it!"

"I never said to do it that hard!"

"Then pinch yourself next time!" he retorted, throwing his hands up in the air and stomping away from her, clearly exasperated.

Katara breathed a little easier. Now that was more like it. Much more Zuko-ish, but then he turned back to face her and ruined it all with his next words. He _apologised_.

"Gyah!" she cried again, and then turned and ran away, even as he chased after her and demanded to know what he had done wrong.

"This isn't real!" she muttered under her breath, still running. "This isn't real! This isn't real! This isn't—Aang!"

She skidded to a halt and then stared at the airbender. The airbender, whose head was floating in thin air—that is until a cat's body suddenly began to form. She blinked, not sure if she was seeing things correctly.

"What are you—why—cat—"

He grinned and twitched his pointy ears. "Which path will you choose next?"

"What?"

"There are endless paths you could take, but you have to pick one."

Katara clenched her hands into fists. "I just want everything to go back to normal!"

"What is normal? What is strange?" He twirled around until he was upside down, grinning at her with his orange tail swishing. "Who are you to decide?"

"Katara!" a raspy voice shouted.

Aang's grin widened. "Looks like your friend has caught up to you."

"He's not my friend! He's—"

But she didn't get to finish her last words, because the cat disappeared, leaving only his grin behind. Then Zuko was there, already reaching out for her and asking her why she had run away from him. Katara couldn't help it; she screamed.

And screamed.

And kept on screaming.

"_Shut up_!"

Katara opened her eyes with a jolt, only to realise that she couldn't move her hands. She breathed hard, sweat coating her body, and then looked around to see a boy with ragged, black hair and a scar glaring at her. He seemed to be chained to the wall.

"Finally," he muttered. "I thought you were never going to stop screaming."

"You!" Katara shrieked with dawning horror.

Zuko winced. "Don't you ever stop screeching?"

Katara clamped her mouth shut, but then a crease formed on her brow. He wasn't at all acting like the boy who had tried to kiss her, or the one who had chased her through the desert because he thought that he had offended her. This boy was moody and scowling and seemed determined to insult her.

"Hey, what's my name?" she asked.

He stared at her blankly. "What?"

"Just answer the question!"

"Kayana? Kanara?" He made an exasperated sound and looked the other way. "I don't know. You're just a stupid peasant."

Katara's mouth curved into a grin and she let out a deep sigh of relief.

Zuko stared at her suspiciously. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing," she said, closing her eyes and settling into a more comfortable position. "Everything's just not upside down anymore, that's all."


	16. Separate

**Soundtrack:** Evenstar – Howard Shore

* * *

**Separate**

Sometimes she looks up at the sky, watching the sun trace a path across the blue in a veil of fire. It is beautiful the way the colours fuse, but all too soon the sun fades and darkness comes again. Then it is the time of the moon—her time—but there is no fire to paint the sky at night, no collision of blue and red. There is only an expanse of inky black, endless as the ocean, and the pale, isolated glow of the celestial lights.

Even now, the sight makes her heart break. It reminds her that he is no longer by her side.

She last saw him standing on a white shore, dressed in resplendent red. He had waved in farewell, and she had not realised at the time that it would hurt so much to lose his companionship. She was going home, back to the ice, the cold, the sea of blue. She had thought that it would be all she could ever need, all she could ever want. But her heart had continued to dream of the sky—of connecting with a fire that she could not reach—and she realised that it was not enough. It would never be enough.

Now the time of darkness has come, and she is alone. She stands on an icy shore and looks to the East, waiting for the sun to rise again.

Waiting for their chance to collide.


	17. Snow

**Soundtrack:** The Old Ways – Loreena McKennit

* * *

**Snow**

There was a time when Zuko had hated the snow. It was cold, wet and had just reminded him of how long it had been since he had last stepped foot on Fire Nation soil. To him, the little white flakes had been nothing more than symbols of isolation and despair, and he had wanted to consume them all in fire so that he would never have to feel that pain again. But that was back then—back when all he had cared about was regaining his honour and returning home.

Back before _she_ had entered his life.

He gripped the railing of the ship, watching the frosted land come closer. The sky was a canvas of misty grey, shrouding the world in shadows, but he was still able to make out the figure standing on the shore: a woman bundled up in blue furs, clutching a lantern in her hand, and with her dark hair streaming out behind her in a veil of silk. She was like a beacon calling him onwards, so bright and colourful when set against the backdrop of white, and he felt his heart quicken in response. _Not long now_, the pounding beat in his chest seemed to whisper. _Not long until you are with her again. _

Something touched his face, trailing down his cheek in an icy caress. He looked up at the sky and saw snowflakes drifting from the clouds like hundreds of falling stars. A faint smile curved his lips. Somehow, it seemed fitting that it should snow today. After all, she was the one who had taught him how to see the beauty of a world blanketed in white; of the flushed cheeks that came from running with wild abandon in the cold, and the passionate kisses stolen while sharing in the warmth of another's body.

Zuko closed his eyes, silently urging the ship to move faster even as he listened to his men prepare for landing. It had been so long. Too long. He didn't hesitate when the ramp touched the shore; he just ran, not caring that he was the Fire Lord and had his dignity to protect—not caring that he was leaving his guards behind and was sure to receive a scolding for it later. All that mattered was Katara. All that mattered was that they were still too far apart, and he could not take it any longer. She dropped the lantern and rushed to meet him, and suddenly he was holding her in his arms, burying his face into her hair as they clutched at each other like two drowning people seeking a lifeline. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest, blending with the rhythm of his own, and he knew in that moment that he could never let her go again. Not this time.

"Zuko," she breathed, tightening her grip on his tunic.

He pulled back slightly and took her face in his hands, meeting her ocean-blue eyes. The snowflakes continued to swirl around them, scattering on her hair and cheeks, and a faint smile curved his mouth before he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.

The journey was over. He was finally home. He was with her.


	18. Heat

**Soundtrack:** Nichiyou No Asa – Utada Hikaru

* * *

**Heat**

"It's so hot!" Sokka complained, sprawled out under the shade of a tree in his undergarments and waving a large leaf to and fro like a fan. "Zuko, make it stop being so hot."

The older boy furrowed his brow. "I'm not a weather god, Sokka."

"You're the Prince of the Fire Nation, aren't you? Use your super royal powers and tell the sun to go away. I'm melting over here!"

Zuko just sighed and flopped back onto his stomach, resting his head on his arms. "Do it yourself. Your voice is loud enough; I'm sure the sun will hear you."

"Hey! I resent that!"

"Mhm," Zuko said noncommittally, closing his eyes.

"I'll have you know that my voice is very mellifluous and—hey, are you even listening?"

"Nope."

Sokka pursed his lips and threw his leaf at the older boy. It fluttered a few times in the windless, muggy air and then landed halfway between them. There was a pause and then—

"Zuko, can you pass me my fan?"

"You have arms and legs, don't you?"

"Can't move," Sokka moaned, collapsing onto his back like a starfish. "Too hot."

Zuko just rolled his eyes and burrowed his face more into his arms, hoping to block out the other's boys complaints along with it. Maybe Sokka didn't like the heat, but Zuko was quite happy to stretch out like a puma-tiger in the sun, letting the warm rays caress his skin and lull him into a state of sleepy contentment. He'd had a long morning training Aang; he thought that he deserved a rest—if only to escape from the monk's rather overpowering personality. He liked the kid enough, but there was only so much he could take of the incessant questions and being called Sifu Hotman without wanting to strangle Aang's scrawny neck.

Of course, now he just felt like strangling Sokka. The Water Tribe boy was still muttering about the heat while at the same time salivating over the thought of snow plains and ice-cold water. There might have been some mentions of South Pole cuisine in there as well, so, as Zuko half-listened to the rant, he was left with the impression that Sokka wanted to swim naked in a pool of icicles and seal jerky. Actually, that was kind of disturbing.

"What do you think, Zuko?" Sokka asked, once he had paused for breath.

"I think you need help," the prince responded flatly.

Sokka made an indignant noise. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why don't you try asking the sun?" Zuko suggested, mouth twitching.

"Ha ha, very funny. I'll have you know that—"

But Zuko didn't find out what Sokka wanted him to know, because as he propped his chin on his arms and stared out towards the ocean, he happened to catch sight of the other Water Tribe sibling. She had just emerged from the water, her dark hair sticking to her in a tangle of wet curls, and her white wrappings hugging her body in a way that he was sure was meant to be harmless but which just made him stare in blissful incoherency for the emphasis it put on certain parts of her anatomy. It was always like this when she went swimming, and he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to tug on that hidden fold of her sarashi, letting the damp cloth unravel to reveal soft breasts and smooth, umber thighs, which he would trail his hands along as he spread her legs and—

Suddenly, he began to feel very warm, and he knew it had nothing to do with the heat of the day and everything to do with his less than honourable thoughts. Shifting uncomfortably, and rather glad that he had chosen to lie on his stomach, he tore his gaze away from the waterbender and instead imagined his uncle dancing around in a red loincloth with a barely clad Li and Lo, while a naked Sokka paddled about in a tub of seal jerky. It worked, for a little, but then Zuko became aware of a shadow blocking the sun and a few droplets of water fell on the sand near his face. Almost cringing, he raised his head to see Katara standing in front of him. Wet.

_Think of Uncle in a loin cloth,_ his mind chanted furiously. _Li and Lo in pink bikinis. Sokka swimming naked in seal jerky. _

But it was no use, because all he could think was that she was so close, and he could see where that stupid cloth had been tucked into her bindings, and all it would take was one good tug to come apart and slip free like threads coming loose on a tapestry …

"Are you alright, Zuko?" Katara asked, wringing some of the water out of her hair. "You look a bit flushed."

He swallowed and averted his gaze, conscious of the building pressure in his pants. "I'm fine," he said a little hoarsely. "It's just the heat."

Sokka sat up with a rush, eyes bright with excitement. "I've got it! Katara can make a big block of ice for us, and then we can roll around on it until we're not dying of heat anymore! It's perfect!"

Zuko just sighed and buried his face back in his arms. Maybe the sun really was getting to them all. Next time, he thought he'd just stick to training with Aang.


	19. Stubborn

**Soundtrack:** Where is the Blood? – Delain

* * *

**Stubborn**

"Katara, open the door!"

Silence.

Zuko banged his fist on the wood. "Katara!"

"Go away!"

He gritted his teeth and then, forcing himself to stay calm, let out a deep breath. "You know I could just come in through the window, right?"

A snort of laughter. "I'd like to see you try."

Right. She'd probably have a whole barrage of water whips, ice daggers, and waves waiting to push him off the ledge. He sighed.

"Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

"Save your breath," she retorted. "You're still not coming through this door."

He folded his arms across his chest, glaring at the wood. "You know, you're not making this easy for me."

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to bring up your ex-girlfriend right before we were about to have sex!"

"Look, it's not what you think! I just said that—"

"I don't care! Just go away!"

Something thumped against the door from the inside. He would bet all of the gold in the palace vaults that it was one of his belongings. Zuko's eyes narrowed, and he once again banged his fist on the wood.

"Katara, you're being ridiculous. Just let me—"

The door swung open, but only to allow an umber-tanned hand to slip out, slap him hard on the cheek, and then slam the door shut again. Zuko blinked, opening and closing his mouth a few times while the pink handprint on his face tingled and throbbed. A servant caught sight of him from the opposite end of the corridor, and she blushed a bright red before shuffling away, no doubt embarrassed to catch sight of her Fire Lord standing stark naked outside his bedroom.

"Can you at least give me some clothes?" Zuko complained, glaring back in the direction of his wife.

Once again, the door swung open and Zuko found an armful of red silk being shoved into his chest. Then the heavy wood snapped shut with a bang and he was left standing alone in the hallway.

"Thanks," he muttered, shrugging into the robe.

So much for a romantic evening spent with his wife. It was back to the guest room for him, and he could only hope that Katara would not be feeling so prickly and stubborn the next morning.

He sighed. _Women_. Can't live with them, can't live without them, can't ever please them.


	20. Demons

**Soundtrack: **When You Hurt Me the Most – Stream of Passion

* * *

**Demons**

Every day he tells himself that he has changed. He's not that boy anymore, so selfish in his determination to achieve his goals and causing so much destruction wherever he walks. But the memories are difficult to forget. His past is like tar spilling through his soul, staining all that was pure and innocent a thick, choking black. Nothing can remove the blood that stains his hands, and he can still see the ashes drifting away in the wind—the charred pieces of homes and lives that he so wantonly destroyed just because they were in his way.

_I have to capture the Avatar! I have to regain my honour!_

The words, once stated so boldly, seem to eternally mock him now. He hears them when he sleeps, when he wakes, because it was all the justification he ever had, and now he understands that it was all for nothing. Honour cannot be regained through blood and betrayal; it is no gift to be granted by a man who would murder his own son if it meant ruling the Fire Nation. Honour is something that has to be earned for oneself, and Zuko is trying to do that—he's really trying—but sometimes he wonders if he'll ever succeed. Sometimes, he wonders if there is just something fundamentally wrong with his family. Even his mother ended up being a murderess, and she had been the kindest of them all.

_Why am I so bad at being good?_

He tells himself that he has changed, but every time he sees his reflection—sees the demons grinning out from his pale gold eyes—he knows that he is only fooling himself. Azula always lies, but what he does is worse, because he actually cares. He cares and he still hurts people. She would manipulate them and strike lightning into their hearts with cold precision, but he just breaks them with his inability to meet their expectations. Still so stupid, still so much of a failure.

Maybe that's why he lets the waterbender beat him down again and again. She trusted him once too, and Aang almost got killed because of it. He knows that she cannot forgive him for this, and he knows that he doesn't really deserve her forgiveness, much as he yearns for her to look at him as she once did in the catacombs, blue eyes so full of concern and warmth. So he lets her bruise him; lets her make him bleed and carve holes of guilt and pain into his heart. He lets her take her anger out on him, because it is a reminder of what he was, of what he is trying so hard not to be. He cannot afford to slip-up now.

_Give me one reason to think you might hurt Aang, and you won't have to worry about your destiny anymore. Because I'll make sure your destiny ends right then and there. Permanently._

He's kneeling before her, water dripping from his hair and clothes. The lash of her water whip has left a crimson streak on his cheek—the unscarred side—and the sharp pain in his ankle tells him that he might have fractured something. She's breathing hard, fingers curled into fists, but the anger in her eyes is mixed with exhaustion and self-loathing. He's seen this look before, but the eyes looking at him then had been fire-tinted gold. His father's eyes.

"Why don't you fight back?" Katara whispers, water slipping from her fingers and dropping harmlessly to the ground. "Why … why do you just take it? I'm hurting you, and you—you—"

Zuko averts his gaze, black hair falling down to veil his features.

"Say something!"

Her palm collides with his face, harsh and stinging. Instinct makes him look up, and he is surprised to see the tears rolling down her cheeks. Why is she crying? They both know that he deserves this, and it's what she wanted, isn't it? She wanted to hurt him, to make him suffer. He only gave her the opportunity.

"Say something," she repeats, voice cracking with emotion.

But she doesn't wait for his answer. She buries her face in her arms, trembling and making small noises that he knows are stifled sobs. Zuko doesn't understand. She hates him, reminds him every day that he's evil and untrustworthy and can only cause pain; she's like the human incarnation of every demon locked inside him, and now she's crying. Crying for him?

"Katara." His voice is hoarse, barely a whisper, but he knows by the way she stills that she is listening. "It's okay. You don't have to feel guilty. I—"

"Don't." She raises her head, staring at him through tear-blurred eyes. "Don't make excuses for me. Just don't."

"But—"

"I hurt you, Zuko." She draws in a shuddering breath, arms wrapped tight around her body. "I couldn't seem to stop, even though you never fought back; I was just so _angry_, but then I looked at you just then—really looked at you—and I saw what I was doing, saw what I was _becoming_, and I realised that it was all wrong. You don't deserve this. You don't deserve any of this."

"Maybe I do." He stares at the ground, running his finger along the drop of blood spreading in a web of crimson through the spilt water. "We both know that I've struggled to do the right thing in the past. Maybe—maybe this is the only way to keep me on track. To stop me from hurting people again."

_You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher. _

A hand touches his arm, and he looks up to meet her ocean-blue irises. The exhaustion and self-loathing is still there, but the anger has faded, becoming a dull glow rather than the brilliant sparkle of which he has grown accustomed. He can almost see in his mind the image of the girl reaching up to touch his scar, telling him that she has healing abilities.

"Is that why you didn't fight me?" she asks, tightening her grip. "Because you thought the pain would somehow help you?"

He looks away, unable to respond. His silence says enough.

"You idiot!" She's hitting him again, pounding her fists into his chest. "You stupid idiot! How could you do that to yourself? How could you think that your well-being is of so little worth? You're so stupid! So stupid …"

Her voice breaks into sobs, and her hand stills as she buries her face into his shoulder, clutching at him instead. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around her trembling frame, not wanting to see her upset, but not really sure how to ease her distress either. She relaxes into the contact, fingers digging into his tunic as she presses herself closer, letting him feel the warmth of her body, the rapid beat of her heart.

"So stupid," she whispers, and he can feel her tears dampening his skin from where her lashes brush against his neck.

Zuko closes his eyes, running his fingers soothingly through her hair just as his mother used to do for him so long ago. After a while her sobs begin to quiet, but she does not move and he makes no effort to push her away. Something has changed between them—something raw and vulnerable, yet filled with so much understanding.

_But I am ready to forgive you._

Every day he tells himself that he has changed. For the first time, as he holds the girl who had hated him so much in his arms, he actually believes it.


	21. Traditions

**Soundtrack: **Toast to Tomorrow – Blackmore's Night

* * *

**Traditions**

Zuko had thought it was a good idea at first. He'd only wanted to show Katara that he loved her and respected her culture. If he could prove to Hakoda at the same time that he was indeed worthy of becoming the waterbender's husband, well, that was just an added bonus.

But that was before Zuko had known what he would be expected to do. In the Fire Nation, getting betrothed was a simple matter of making a request to the girl's parents, then approaching said female with an offering of a hair comb (to show that she was off-limits to other men), and voila: you're engaged. In the Southern Water Tribe, it was very, very different.

There had been a test of hunting prowess, in which Zuko had been forced to go with a few of the warriors to catch whatever wild animal he could find in the frozen snow plains. It had been stated very clearly that he was not allowed to use his firebending (instead, he had a spear and a jaw blade), but that was the least of the Fire Lord's worries. He could track people and animals with relative ease if he knew the signs, but that was on land not covered in snow. The terrain was completely different here, and he'd never had to bother about hunting while travelling through the poles during his banishment because he and his uncle had always just bought food at the ports or the crew would fish in the ocean using nets.

Needless to say, Zuko had not found the first test particularly easy. The warriors were there to make sure he came to no harm, but they were not allowed to assist him in any way (though Sokka had tried to give a few hints, all of which had been so cryptic that Zuko still couldn't work out if his friend had been trying to tell him to cover himself in honey or look for sticky patches on the sparse trees and rocks). There was also the fact that he would be judged according to what animal he caught; a snowy hare-owl, after all, would not provide as much meat as an arctic wolf-bat, and the whole point of this test was to prove that he could provide food for his family.

Eventually, it was what Toph fondly called the "Zuko Luck" that got the Fire Lord coming away from the ordeal triumphant. One moment he'd been searching for tracks in the snow—though without much enthusiasm—and then something large, hairy and smelly was charging at him, roaring and slashing with its claws in a way that suggested the creature rather liked the idea of having fresh firebender for dinner. A rather undignified struggle had ensued, but eventually Zuko had managed to kill the creature (even if he had just tripped, landed on his backside, and had somehow managed to spear the smelly thing in the process). Later, he had found out that his accidental prey had been a muskox-bear, the largest and most dangerous predator in the South Pole. Hakoda and Gran-Gran were most impressed, but that still had not allowed Zuko to escape the rest of the trials. A good husband, after all, had to be more than a hunter.

That was how Zuko had found himself on his knees in the snow, trying to build an igloo. It didn't matter that he and Katara would not be living in the South Pole or that his girlfriend was a waterbender and could make an ice hut for them in less than a minute. No, this was a tradition that could not be avoided, for a man was worth nothing in the eyes of the Southern Water Tribe if he couldn't even build a house for his future wife. Unfortunately, building had never been Zuko's forte, and having only a knife and lots of snow for his construction tools just made it that much more difficult.

"I could help you," Katara had offered, when it became obvious that Zuko's igloo was more like a house of cards that would just keep tumbling down again and again. "No one has to know."

But Zuko had refused her help. He said that he would do this properly or not do it at all. Needless to say, he hadn't come away from that task particularly successful. By the end, his igloo had looked more like a lopsided cave that would crumble at any minute. Hakoda hadn't even been able to stand upright inside the hut.

"Well, at least they won't go hungry," Gran-Gran observed, pursing her lips as she examined the 'igloo'.

Zuko rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, not sure if that meant he had failed in his task or not. Most likely failed, if Sokka's laughter was anything to go by, but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between Gran-Gran and Hakoda to give the Fire Lord another chance to prove his worth. So he had been taken to the centre of the village, where he was told to strip down to his pants and get ready.

"Get ready for what" Zuko asked, glancing at the villagers, who now stood in a circle around him as if to box him into some kind of arena.

Gran-Gran pointed straight ahead, and his eyes widened when he saw Hakoda remove his chieftain furs and tunic and take up a fighting stance. Apparently, the Wolf Claw challenge meant that Zuko had to defeat Hakoda in hand-to-hand combat, proving to the man and the village that he had the strength to protect Katara. Piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

Zuko might be lithe and dangerous in a fight, but he had always relied on his dual dao swords or his bending to pull him through. Now he had no fire, no twin blades, and he soon realised that it was very different trying to bring down a man who was much taller and stronger than him with just his bare hands—especially since Hakoda was both skilled in hand-to-hand combat and turned out to be remarkably light on his feet for such a giant of a man.

Needless to say, there was much more undignified struggling on Zuko's part, and he may or may not have had his face mashed into the snow more than once. But Zuko was not one to give up, and while he was indeed outmatched in strength and height, he still had the edge when it came to speed. Combine that with the fact that he had always been known to fight a little dirty when he got desperate (Azula could attest to this; she had been the biter, but he had definitely been the hair-puller), and it was no wonder that the duel which had started out so formal soon regressed into something much more indecorous—complete with snow-wrestling, insults and, yes, hair-pulling.

"This is embarrassing," Katara muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb.

"This is hilarious!" Sokka corrected, and proceeded to make bets with Bato on who would win (Sokka went with Zuko; the Fire Lord clearly had the hair-pulling technique down, and that trick he had of spinning his legs round in a circle to break Hakoda's hold was rather effective).

As it turned out, however, neither Bato nor Sokka were able to claim their winnings. The fight dragged on and on, and then—after a particularly inelegant struggle, which consisted of much rolling in the snow and some hair-tugging on Hakoda's part—the two men simply flopped onto their backs and breathed heavily, looking utterly spent.

"Not bad," Zuko said, still trying to catch his breath. "At least, for an old guy."

"You're not bad yourself," Hakoda responded, "for a pampered Fire Lord."

There was a pause, and then they both looked at each other with identical grins. Nothing like undignified struggling and hair-pulling to bring two men together. In silent agreement they got to their feet and faced each other. Hakoda clasped the younger man's forearm and gave him a hearty slap on the back.

"Well done, Zuko. You've passed the Wolf Claw challenge." His smile took on a mischievous edge. "There is just one more thing you have to do to prove your worthiness for my daughter's hand in marriage."

Zuko frowned, brushing some of the snow out of his hair. "What's that?"

Next thing he knew he was sitting on the floor in the guest igloo, staring at the pale stone in his hands. The shape was not a perfect circle and the carvings that had been etched onto the front were wonky and didn't resemble much of anything. No woman in her right mind would want to wear such a thing. Zuko groaned and tossed the stone away from him, burying his face in his hands.

"I must have been an idiot to think that I could do this," he muttered.

"What makes you think that?"

He flinched and looked up, and his cheeks flushed with pink when he saw Katara standing in front of him, holding his poor attempt at a betrothal necklace in her hand. A smile curved her lips as she examined the pendant, and in that moment he wished he was an earthbender and could just sink right into the earth. At least then he wouldn't have to suffer this humiliation.

"Go ahead," he said, folding his arms and looking the other way. "Laugh and tell me it's the ugliest thing you've ever seen."

"But I don't think that."

A scowl twisted his features. "You don't need to coddle me. I know I have no skill with carving. Just like I can't build igloos, or hunt, or—"

"Zuko." Katara knelt down in front of him and placed her hand against his cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Do you really think any of us expected you to complete the tasks perfectly?"

"Isn't that the point? To prove my worthiness through different skills."

"In some ways, yes, but the trials are more of a way to show your dedication and sincerity; to prove that you are willing to do whatever it takes to be a good husband, not because you are the best at hunting or carving, but because you care. You did that through your actions over these past few days. Maybe your igloo wasn't perfect, and maybe you only caught that muskox-bear by accident, but you still did it all on your own; you still tried, even though you're not from my tribe and no one expected you to do so." She took his hand in hers and placed the necklace on his palm. "That's why I don't think this pendant is ugly. Because even though it was difficult for you, I know that every cut, every pattern, was done with love."

Zuko stared at her suspiciously. "You're just saying that to make me feel better, aren't you?"

She laughed. "No, I'm not. I really mean it."

He gazed at her a moment longer and then he just sighed. "Maybe you're right, but that doesn't change the fact that the necklace is poorly crafted. You can't wear something like that; everyone would wonder if you had picked it up from a junkyard, and that's just embarrassing for the both of us."

Katara rolled her eyes. "Zuko, would you stop fretting over the necklace and just kiss me already? You're ruining the mood."

For once, he did not complain and leaned forward to oblige. Their lips met in a teasing caress, and as he took her into his arms and deepened the kiss, falling back with her against the furs, he found that he didn't much care that he had failed half of his tasks and barely scraped through the others. What mattered was that Katara was now officially his fiancée, and he was definitely looking forward to the wedding night.


	22. Forbidden

**Soundtrack: **An Historic Love – Trevor Morris

* * *

**Forbidden**

It is so wrong. So, so wrong. Her thighs are wrapped around his waist, and he's pressing kisses onto her shoulder, the fluttering pulse on her neck, trailing a path along her skin as he slips down her robe to bare her breasts. His cheeks are damp from her tears, or maybe they're his own—he doesn't know anymore. But no matter the self-loathing he feels, the self-loathing she feels, they can't seem to stop. His hands keep touching, pulling her closer, and their lips keep meeting in desperate kisses, as if it is the only thing that is keeping them alive.

She is his oxygen. She is his beating heart. But the intricate comb holding up her hair does not belong to him, and neither does she.

"_So you must be the new Fire Lady."_

_Her blue eyes observe him coolly. "And you must be the infamous Prince Zuko—the Fire Nation's conquering hero of the battlefield. My husband sings your praises so much that I was sure you were going to be an eight-foot giant with swords for arms. Instead, I see a man who is a little above average height and not remarkable at all. Disappointing."_

_A wry smile curves his lips. "Lu Ten always did have a flair for exaggeration."_

Zuko breathes in sharply, pressing his forehead against hers as he tries to catch his breath. "We shouldn't be doing this," he murmurs, pain and bitterness interlaced in every word. "This is wrong."

"Yes," she whispers.

They stare at each other for a moment, knowing they should stop, knowing they should have never succumbed to temptation in the first place. But the pull between them is too strong. His arm tightens around her waist, and then he is kissing her again—kissing her so roughly and desperately, because he hates what he is doing; hates how he is betraying his honour, his country. Hates that, even though she is his Fire Lord's wife, he cannot seem to stop loving her.

It is so wrong. It feels so right.

* * *

Note: I am considering expanding on this drabble to turn it into a chaptered AU, so do let me know if you'd be interested in reading something like this. Knowing beforehand that I will have readers is always a good incentive to get writing. ^_~


	23. Serenity

**Soundtrack:** My Tears and the Sky – Nobuo Uematsu

* * *

**Serenity**

The sun was setting over the capital, making the tiled roofs burn in the colours of rust and fire. It was a beautiful sight, and Katara couldn't help the small smile that came to her lips. Even after all these years, she never grew tired of watching the Fire Nation sunsets. They were just so vibrant and warm, spreading across the sky in big splashes of orange and red, as if the sun really were cradling the world in fiery hands. Sure, the image was nothing like the dark, mysterious skies of the South Pole, and at first she had found that jarring, but now the sunsets were just soothing to look upon. Peaceful.

"I thought I'd find you out here."

Katara turned her face to see Zuko leaning against the wall, watching her with a smile. "I was just admiring the view," she said.

He stepped away from the stone and joined her on the balcony, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "So was I," he murmured in her ear.

She laughed softly and reached her hand up to clasp his cheek, pulling his face down to her level. Their lips met in a caress, light and teasing, and his fingers moved to intertwine with hers as he deepened the kiss. Suddenly, she felt a fluttery nudge to her stomach, right under their clasped hands. They both paused, and she broke away to face her husband, who was now staring at her with wide, golden eyes.

"Did the baby just—"

She nodded, grinning.

Zuko was on his knees in a second, placing his hands on her swollen belly and trying to get the baby to kick for him again. Her smile widened as she watched him, knowing just by listening to the gentle way he spoke to their "little one" that he was going to be a good father. Not that she had ever doubted him.

His eyes flicked to hers, as if bidden by her gaze, and his eyebrow lifted a fraction. "What?"

She shook her head, still smiling. "Nothing. I'm just happy, that's all."

And as she glanced back at the sunset that coloured the world in shades of fire, she knew that she always would be. The little girl from the Southern Water Tribe had all grown up, finding a new land to call home. Katara understood that she would never forget her heritage, but she was also the Fire Lady now—had been so for years—and soon she would have a family of her own.

She had no regrets.


	24. Tea

**Soundtrack:** La La Isla Bonita – Madonna

* * *

**Tea**

Katara had always been known as the sensible one of the group. She was the mother, the big sister, as well as every other name for a slightly bossy but reliable person. But then Zuko had joined their little gang, and it turned out that he didn't find making beards and armpit hair out of bison fur very funny either. In fact, he was so adamant about doing things properly, so determined to make sure everyone got enough food, rest, and training to be on top form to beat the Fire Lord, that Toph had taken to calling him 'Dad' when he wasn't around (and sometimes to his face). The nickname was not always used as a term of endearment either.

For Katara, however, Zuko's serious nature had been a breath of fresh air. She had finally felt like she had found someone whom she could rely upon; someone who, like her, couldn't tell a joke to save himself, but at least could be counted on to help with the dishes, keep everyone in line, and do his own washing. That was why she couldn't understand why he was currently professing his undying love to Momo.

She planted her hands on her hips, eyebrow rising dangerously high as she watched the prince hold out his arms for a hug from the lemur, and all the while grinning like some idiot who had bumped his head one too many times. Momo seemed just as confused, chirruping a few times before flying off in the direction of the fruit trees. Zuko made an odd wailing sound and slumped to the ground, clutching at his hair and bemoaning his fate. He was acting like he had just been jilted by his girlfriend, saying in a voice of despair that no one was ever going to love him—not even the lemur.

"Alright, that's it," Katara muttered, drawing up her shoulders as if about to go into battle and marching towards the prince. "Zuko!"

He sat up, looking at her through hazy eyes. "Momo left me," he said sadly.

"I know. I saw the whole thing."

Zuko gripped her ankle. "_You_ won't leave me, will you?"

Her eyebrow rose even higher. "Kind of hard to do so when you've got my foot in a death grip."

He blinked a few times, as if he didn't quite understand what she was saying. She sighed and, after disengaging her ankle from his clasp, knelt down in front of him. Pale gold eyes flickered to hers, distracted by her movement, but he seemed to have trouble actually focussing on her and instead looked at some point beyond her shoulder.

"Zuko," she said, taking his face in her hands and forcing him to meet her gaze, "are you feeling alright?"

"Momo left me."

"Yes, you already told me that," she responded in an exasperated voice. "Next time try dressing up as a moon peach. I'm sure he'll pay much more attention to you."

Zuko's eyes brightened. "Do you think so?"

Katara smacked her palm against her forehead. Now she understood why Sokka sometimes got those red marks. Being around idiots was indeed a trial.

"I'm going to take that as a sign that you are definitely not alright," she muttered, lowering her hand and looking at him again. "You haven't eaten anything strange today, have you?"

Zuko stared at her blankly for a moment—it was actually kind of unnerving—and then a glint of interest entered his gold irises and he reached out to her, touching one of the loops of brown hair framing her face. Her heart gave a funny flutter, and for a moment she was too stunned to react. His fingers were just so gentle, brushing her skin in little caresses as he followed the loop, but then—

"You always wear these hair loopy things," he observed, and then he giggled. He actually _giggled_.

Katara resisted the urge to smack her forehead again and instead swatted his hand away from her hair. "Zuko, focus!" she ordered.

Apparently, barking orders seemed to be the way to go with him, because he immediately straightened his back and stared at her with his full attention. She could have wept in relief.

"Now," she said, trying to be calm, "I need you to tell me if you have eaten or drunk anything different today. Anything at all."

He shook his head—a bit too much, if she were to be honest, as if he actually enjoyed swaying his head from side to side. Another bark for him to focus had him halting in the motion, if a little dizzily, and he claimed that he had just eaten what he always did. Oh, but Sokka had made him some tea. It had tasted a little strange, but then Uncle Iroh had always told him that it was the thought that counts, so Zuko had done the polite thing and drunk it all.

"I didn't even know Sokka could make tea," Zuko said dreamily, and then his hazy eyes flickered back to hers. "Did you?"

Katara pursed her lips. "No, I didn't."

And she would bet all of her secret mango stash that this 'tea' hadn't been made from the same collection of herbs that Zuko carried around in his pack. It was like the cactus juice fiasco all over again, except this time it was Zuko who was acting out of his wits, and she had a feeling that had been intentional. Everyone had been complaining about the prince's slave-driving ways and how he never let them have any fun; getting him drunk on spiked tea would have seemed like the perfect solution.

Zuko's fingers reached out for her "hair loopy" again—he seemed to have quite the fascination with it—and she sighed and once more swatted his hand away. It seemed she was going to be stuck doing babysitting duty for a while until the prince sobered up. She couldn't just leave him like this, for there was no saying what he might do and, unfortunately, waterbending couldn't heal stupidity. A warm body suddenly pressed against her side, forcing her to put her hand down on the ground to keep her balance. Great, now he was leaning against her—though more like sprawling all over her—_and_ he was back to playing with her "hair loopies".

Katara closed her eyes. She was going to kill Sokka or, at the very least, give him a very stern lecture. After all, she was the responsible one, the mum of the group, and right now Mama Turtle Duck was _not_ happy.


	25. Light

**Soundtrack:** The Crow, the Owl, and the Dove – Nightwish

* * *

**Light**

The water was alit with thousands of candles, glowing and flickering like stars floating on an upside down sky. Katara had never seen anything more beautiful, and not for the first time did she wonder how a nation that could cause so much destruction could then turn around to create such wonder and beauty. It was such a paradox in a way—much like him.

She turned to look at her companion, who was busy checking his swords and casting uneasy looks around at the townsfolk. He was always on edge when they went into the towns; always afraid he would be recognised or that something would go wrong. A traitor, a banished prince, an ally. He was so many things, and she found that she never quite knew what to make of him. Worse, she never quite knew how to react to him. Like now.

Zuko folded his arms and glanced out over the water, giving her a good view of his profile. Dark hair caressing an unscarred cheek; handsome, angular features that were both delicate yet strong, and then those eyes—those warm, golden eyes. There was something about him in that moment; something that made her heart quicken and her mouth go dry. It was so frustrating, so confusing, and she shook her head to clear her thoughts, focussing instead on the little lights floating on the sea.

"What are they doing with all of those candles?" she asked, stepping closer so that they were standing side by side.

"It's a sending of wishes to the spirits," he answered, not looking at her. "The candles represent our hopes and dreams; if the boat makes it to the land of the spirits, it's said that your wish will come true."

"I notice you're not sending any wishes."

Zuko said nothing, but there was a pained look in his eyes, as if he were remembering a time when he had raced to the shore like all of the other children to send off his little boat and candle. Her stomach twisted in guilt. That had been really thoughtless of her.

"Hey," Katara said, placing her hand on his arm. "We don't have to hang around here if you don't want to. We've already got all the supplies we needed."

"No," he said quietly. "I—I think we should send a wish."

Katara didn't press him to tell her why he had changed his mind; instead, she helped him put together one of the little boats and then watched as he held his finger to the wick, ready to light the candle nestled in the centre with his bending.

"Make a wish," he murmured, holding her gaze.

She closed her eyes and prayed with all of her heart that she and her friends would all make it through this war alive. Then she nodded to Zuko, who lit the candle with a small spark of fire, and together they knelt down to place the boat on the water.

"Do you think our wish will make it to the land of the spirits?" she asked, standing next to him as they watched the little flame float away with the current.

"Maybe." He glanced down at her, gold locking with blue. "Do you?"

She stared at the boy beside her, now confronted with both sides of his face: the scarred and twisted, as well as the smooth and handsome. It occurred to her then that even if he was a bundle of contradictions, he would still just be Zuko to her. He would still be her friend. A faint smile curved her lips.

"I hope so, Zuko," she said, slipping her hand in his. "I really hope so."


	26. Holiday

**Soundtrack: **I Belong to You/Mon Coeur S'Ouvre a Ta Voix – Muse

* * *

**Holiday**

Fire Lord Zuko needed a holiday. Or, at least, that is what everyone told him.

A man needs his rest, Iroh had reminded, just as he had done so many times during Zuko's banishment. Of course, then the letter had started waffling about vineyards and knowing when to prune and when to let the fruit be, or something like that. Zuko wasn't really sure. His uncle had always had a penchant for offering words of wisdom in the form of convoluted proverbs. For the first time, the young Fire Lord had been happy when the letter had switched back to the topic of tea. The old man's obsession with 'hot leaf juice' might be a little mystifying, but at least Zuko wasn't being bombarded with metaphors and trying to figure out why the wise vineyard keeper did not spend every waking hour watching his grapes grow.

Aang's letter had been as erratic and meandering as the airbender himself. One moment he was asking Zuko about how things were going in the Fire Nation, and the next he was babbling excitedly about how he had found a female flying bison on an uncharted island during his travels. This back and forth pattern continued to the end of the letter, but the hint was still there for Zuko to take a break. Perhaps they could meet up sometime—go for a ride on a giant koi fish or something. It would be fun.

Zuko had not found that suggestion particularly appealing, and had said as much to his friend. This, of course, had paved the way for Sokka's letter, which had been about as cryptic as his uncle's paragraph on vineyards, if only because Sokka had been trying to use tact. Sokka was terrible at using tact. Thankfully, Suki had added her input at the end, so the long ramble concerning Sokka's 'troubled friend' and all the (very manly) ways in which he was trying to look out for said 'friend' suddenly began to make sense. That didn't mean that Zuko planned on listening to the advice, though.

Ty Lee and Mai's letter had been typical for the two girls. Ty Lee had told him that he absolutely had to get away from the palace—maybe go to one of the resorts for a relaxing holiday, or he could come and visit her and Mai on Kyoshi Island; she knew the other warriors would be happy to see him. Either way, he had to do _something, _for his aura would be sure to turn all dingy and grey if he kept pushing himself so relentlessly, and no one wanted a Fire Lord with a dingy, grey aura. Mai had not mentioned auras, but she had been straight to the point, as was her way. He was the ruler of his nation and should stop letting the nation rule him. It was as simple as that. Anyway, she didn't know why he wanted to spend all of his time shut up in the palace. Politics were so boring.

Toph's letter had been the most abrupt. She told him that he had better take a holiday soon, because she was tired of hearing whiny complaints from his uncle and the others about how worried they were for him. Maybe Zuko wanted to work himself into an early grave, but she was not going to put up with this nonsense. So she gave him an ultimatum: he could either take a vacation or she would come over there and kick his royal arse so hard he would become a Fire Lord-shaped star in the sky.

That left Katara. Zuko had been expecting a long letter filled with much scolding and concerned advice. He had not been expecting the waterbender to just turn up at the palace one day and kidnap him.

Well, perhaps kidnap was too strong a word. She had enough sense to realise that he couldn't just up and leave the country when there was no heir or Fire Lady to rule in his absence, but she insisted that there was still no harm in him taking a mini-vacation within the boundaries of the islands. The councillors weren't going to start acting like headless goose-chickens just because he put his meetings on hold for a week, and she didn't see how taking a break from grinding his nose into hundreds of reports and scrolls every day would somehow make the economy collapse. Yes, the Fire Nation had problems, but Zuko was only human. He still had to make time for himself.

Zuko had tried to argue the point, saying that he would take a break when everything had settled down. That was when he had found himself with a delicate finger being pointed at his face, almost poking him in the eye.

"You are not getting out of this, Zuko!" Katara had declared, getting right up in his personal space. "You are exhausted and need rest. Just look at yourself!"

She had forced him to look in the mirror then, and he hadn't been able to hide his shock. The young man looking back at him was gaunt and far too pale, with dark circles shadowing his eyes, as if his many sleepless nights had somehow etched bruises onto his skin. He had looked like the banished prince he had used to be, driven with a mad frenzy to capture the Avatar, no matter the cost on his body and mind. No wonder everyone had been worried.

Zuko had stopped arguing then. It was a bit hard to refute Katara's claim when the evidence was right there in front of him, and he knew how stubborn she could get. There was no point pushing the matter further (unless he wanted to end up very wet). He told himself that it wasn't really giving up without a fight—more like biding his time to live to fight another day.

Oh, who was he kidding? He knew exactly what Toph would say if she were here: Katara had him totally whipped. Certainly, that was the only explanation he could come up with for why he agreed to take a vacation on Ember Island and stay in his family's old summer house (now refurbished) with only the waterbender for company.

It never occurred to him that there could be something awkward, even dangerous, about this situation. He and Katara had been friends for years and had travelled alone together a number of times while preparing to defeat his father and sister. It was natural to be with her—well, it had used to be natural. Somehow, the situation felt a little different now. He couldn't help but be aware of the slight discomfort he would feel whenever Katara would turn up in her bindings to go swimming with him (because those curves had definitely _not_ used to be there), or the way his heart would quicken when she leaned in close, blue eyes crinkling into a smile as she teased and taunted him into following her 'advice' (coughcommandscough).

No, there was definitely something different about this holiday, and that awkwardness was brought home to him in full force when Katara took it into her head to become his personal masseuse. She had fussed and prodded, telling him he was too tense and that he wasn't even trying to enjoy his holiday. Zuko had hotly denied this; he had gone swimming with her at the beach, hadn't he? Just like he had dined with her, gone for walks with her, and even done some yoga with her (and felt his manliness slipping away from him with each passing second, might he add). But that was not enough for Katara. She said he was like a prickly rock, and she was not going to let him return back to the palace until she was certain he was all nice and relaxed. Besides, she was very good at giving massages. Suki had told her once that she had magical fingers. Did Zuko have a good argument for why he should deny those magical fingers? No. No, he didn't.

So there they were: Zuko lying on his stomach, shirtless, while Katara straddled him and worked her supposedly magical fingers into the muscles and grooves on his back. It was heavenly … it was also damn awkward. When he wasn't thinking about how lovely it was to have all those knots worked out of his back, he was all too conscious of the smooth thighs brushing against him as she leaned forward to reach his shoulders, as well as the whispers of silk that would caress his bare skin, reminding him that she wasn't wearing anything but her bindings underneath that slinky blue robe …

He swallowed and tried to focus on her hands, but that just made him wonder what it would be like if those delicate but strong fingers were to move caressingly down his skin to touch _other_ places. Heat burned through his veins at the thought, turning his blood to liquid fire. He was suddenly very glad that he was flat on his stomach.

"Feeling better?" Katara asked, pausing in her ministrations.

Zuko made a muffled sound that might have been a yes, but sounded more like 'hgnnn'. In truth, he was just feeling very aroused, which was probably not a good thing. It made him think stupid things like what would happen if he just flipped her over and kissed her. Would she slap him? Kiss him in return?

"Zuko?" Katara prodded him in the back. "You haven't gone to sleep on me, have you?"

"I'm awake," he answered, trying to get control of his emotions, "but, uh, I think I've had enough."

"Oh." She clambered off him. "Sure thing."

Zuko winced. She sounded disappointed, even hurt. He sat up, making sure to fold his hands on his lap in a way so that he could disguise his rather embarrassing predicament. No one wanted to talk to a girl—especially a friend—while pitching a tent in one's pants.

"It's not that I didn't like the massage," he added hastily. "I just think it would be best if we called it a night for now. It's late, we've had a long day, and I'm sure your fingers must be sore, and—"

And he was rambling. Zuko clamped his mouth shut, feeling his cheeks warm. He wished he didn't babble when he got nervous.

Katara looked at him with new interest. "Are you blushing?"

"What? No!"

"You are," she said with a grin. "You're as red as a beetroot."

Zuko made a huffy sound and folded his arms; he hated to be teased. "I'm not blushing. It's probably just the heat. Besides—"

Katara let out a small "oh", distracting him from his grand speech of defence. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but then he noticed that she was staring at his lap and the blood suddenly rushed back to his cheeks, vibrant and hot. He was definitely blushing now. He was also feeling incredibly mortified.

She placed a hand over her mouth, clearly trying to hide a smile. "Maybe you're right, Zuko," she said in a voice that quivered with amusement. "We should call it a night. I can see that you, uh, need some special alone time to _unwind_ before bed."

The Fire Lord just groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Please don't."

"Hey, there's no need to be embarrassed. It's a natural body reaction. Believe me, I've seen my fair share after living and travelling with males for most of my life."

Another groan. "You're not helping!"

There was a pause, and then she stepped closer. He felt her fingers brush against his chest, trailing down and down and down …

"Am I helping now?" she asked in a low voice.

Zuko's eyes snapped open, meeting her ocean-blue irises. "Oh," he said, inhaling sharply.

Her lips curved into a smile, and she leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth, even as her hand continued to inspire the most wonderful and mind-blowing sensations through his body. She really did have magical fingers, and when he later lay with her on his bed, planting feather-light kisses on her bare shoulder, he had to admit that he rather liked the way she got him to release all that pent-up tension and frustration as well. In fact, he thought that his friends and uncle might have been onto something after all when they told him to take a holiday from his Fire Lord duties.

Well, at least when he had a naked waterbender with magical fingers to keep him company.

* * *

Phew. I thought I wasn't going to make it with this one. Life has been crazy with Christmas and everything else, and I have got behind in my writing. Hopefully, I can get the next two days' prompts written on time, but I have got all the rest finished, so either way this collection will be completed come the thirty-first of December. ^_^


	27. Similarity

This one-shot is dedicated to Lady Avatar, who once made a request for a post-war prison scene involving Ozai and one of the original Gaang members. I said I would write it for you, and you see I have kept my word. It might not be exactly what you were expecting (and I'm very sorry I wasn't able to give more attention to this one, since I wrote it for ZM), but I do hope you like it all the same. ^_^

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**Soundtrack: **Blackheart – Two Steps From Hell

* * *

**Similarity**

Once, he had a title. Once he had ruled an entire nation—even the world. Now they just call him 'Ozai', though one still calls him 'father'. Stripped of everything and reduced to huddling in a cage of stone and bars. This is his life now. This is all he will ever know until he dies.

He doesn't count the days. He doesn't scratch marks on the grey walls. He doesn't even care to watch the sun move from east to west past the barred window that is his only view of the outside world, for he lost his connection with the life-giving fire many years ago. He exists only to think, to ponder, to contemplate what he could have done differently and whether there was any way he could have avoided his fate. There had to have been a crossroad somewhere—a turning point that changed everything and set him on the path for ruin. He thinks he knows where it started. It started with a boy with black hair and pale gold eyes.

It started with his son.

Ursa had said the child looked just like him. Ozai had been proud of the similarity once—until he had realised how utterly weak and useless his firstborn had turned out to be. Zuko could never be relied upon to do what was needed. The boy's firebending had been pathetic and he'd had too many silly concerns to distract him from his task, too much compassion. One wounded turtle-duck and the child was crying, begging for his father and mother to make the little creature better; one battalion of new recruits ordered to fight on the frontlines and the thirteen-year-old prince was standing up in a war meeting, disrespecting his father with impassioned words and accusations.

That was Zuko: the boy who had always rubbed his father the wrong way with his sensitive nature and need to protect even the most insignificant of creatures; the boy who had stolen all of Ursa's attention and forced her to leave, because she had loved the child more than her husband and would have done anything to protect the snivelling little brat, even at the cost of her own freedom.

The boy who had ruined everything.

"Do you have any regrets?" Zuko had asked him one year after his imprisonment.

Ozai had bared his teeth in a vicious smile. "I regret not killing you when I had the chance. I should have known that banishment was too soft a punishment for such a weak, disloyal son. It would have been better for everyone had I just ended your life when your grandfather first ordered your death. At least your mother would still be here."

Pain had flickered in those pale gold eyes then, as if the irises were reflections of the boy's bleeding heart. It had been satisfying to see that hurt; to know that he had pierced right into that sensitive flesh with his words and caused as much damage as he had done when he had cradled fire to the boy's face, burning through tissue and membrane to leave the skin irreversibly scarred. Ozai had always said that pain and suffering would be the boy's teacher, but as the years passed and Zuko's visits became less frequent, he began to wonder who was really being taught a lesson.

He began to wonder who was really to blame for the way his own path had got so crooked and impassable.

It wasn't quite regret, but somehow it didn't seem so satisfying that the boy whom he had always resented no longer seemed to need his company or approval. Zuko had moved on, and Ozai was still trapped in his cage of bitterness and stagnation. There was no future for him; only a past shattered into a thousand pieces that he could not repair.

That was when she came, chin held high and dressed in various shades of blue. The crown of the Fire Lady was pinned to her hair, gleaming in a mockery of everything that he had been taught to believe. A waterbender should never be allowed to be the mother of the Fire Nation, yet there she was with the crescent-shaped headpiece crowning her head. Just another sign of how unfit his son was to rule the Fire Nation; the boy couldn't even choose a proper wife, or so Ozai had thought.

"Where is Zuko?" he asked, watching her through the slits between the bars.

"He doesn't want to see you," she answered calmly.

Ozai's mouth thinned. So the boy really did think that he didn't need his father anymore. It was surprising how much that bothered him, like the ache of a missing limb long after amputation: inexplicable, yet still so real. Somehow, that just made him even angrier—even more determined to wound those around him. He gave a harsh laugh as he met her ocean-blue eyes.

"I always thought the boy was weak," Ozai observed. "He can't even face his own father. Instead, he sends his waterbender whore to give me his messages." A cruel smile. "Pathetic."

"You're wrong," she said simply. "Zuko is stronger than you know—stronger than you could ever be."

He laughed again, loudly and mockingly. "My son was so weak that he had to get you to defeat Azula so that he could become Fire Lord; he was so weak that he had to rely upon the Avatar to defeat me. What has he done but fail and rely upon others to fix his problems for him? He will never be able to rule this nation. He is too soft, too afraid to do what needs to be done. The people will crush him, and then all of your efforts to remove me from the throne will have been for nothing. This nation will burn in the fire of his failure, and I will rise up from the ashes to be the Phoenix King once again."

Her composure did not falter. It was as if his words were a gentle breeze washing over her, barely touching her at all. It made him want to tear at her face with his fingernails to scratch off her unshakable calm.

"The people love Zuko," she responded with quiet assuredness. "For six years he has worked to gain their trust and respect, and now he is already being proclaimed as the Fire Nation's most beloved Fire Lord. He has proven himself worthy to be their leader."

"It won't last." Ozai's golden irises glittered with malice. "It never lasts."

"You're wrong," she repeated, and then her lips curved into the faintest of smiles. "You see, Zuko isn't like you. He doesn't rule by fear or try to alienate his friends. He actually listens. He actually _loves _his people."

"Love is for the weak."

"Right," she said with a trace of amusement. "That must be why you are locked up in this prison cell while Zuko rules the Fire Nation. Because you're just so strong."

Ozai's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I see. You've come here to gloat, haven't you, girl?"

She brushed a loose strand of chestnut away from her face. "No. I came here to tell you that you have a grandson."

It was as if he had been punched in the gut. A grandson, and one of mixed blood at that. He wondered if Zuko would have ever told him had the waterbender not come. He wondered why he cared at all.

"I suppose I am not allowed to see this child," Ozai mused, examining his fingernails.

"No, but I thought you should at least know. You are still part of the family, after all."

Ozai inclined his head in mock acknowledgment, knowing she was reminding him that, because of his choices, he would be trapped in this cell for the rest of his days, but also of the future he had let slip through his fingers. Perhaps in a different life he might have taken the other path, one that was not so crooked and filled with hidden sinkholes. Perhaps he and the boy with black hair and pale gold eyes might have had more in common than just their looks. Perhaps he might have got to hold his grandson, just as he was sure his treacherous brother had done in his stead. But this was the path that Ozai had chosen, and he could not find it in his heart to regret his actions. He had wanted power. He had always wanted power. It was simply the way he was, just as much as Zuko had always been driven by a need to protect those he loved. There was no going back for either of them now.

The waterbender turned to leave, apparently having said her piece. Ozai leaned forward and gripped the bars, watching her with a calculating glint in his eyes.

"Do tell Zuko I offer him my congratulations," he said in a deceptively amiable voice. "I hope he has better luck with his heir than I did with mine. We wouldn't want to nurture another traitor now, would we?"

The waterbender said nothing and carried on walking, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. Ozai released the bars and allowed his mouth to curve into a twisted smile. Well, perhaps he and his son had one more thing in common; they had both married strong women.

"We'll see if it lasts," he murmured.

The men in their family had always been cursed when it came to their wives, just as they had been cursed in everything else. But then Zuko was different. Zuko had always been different. A crease formed on Ozai's brow and he looked up at the window, watching the sun paint the sky in the colours of fire.

He wondered if he would ever see his son again. He wondered why he cared.


	28. Atonement

Just a heads up that this one-shot has been rated M for sexual content. Consider yourself warned.

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**Soundtrack: **Whatever Lola Wants – Janice Hagen

**Atonement**

It had been almost three weeks since he had first joined their group. She would not speak to him unless it was to make a spiteful comment; she did not look at him unless it was to glare, and she certainly would not sit near him or touch him if she could help it. He had might as well have been a vagrant infested with an infectious, incurable disease for the way she treated him, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit. Somehow, he had to make things better between them. He had to make amends.

But Katara was the queen of grudges. If she didn't want to forgive him, she simply wouldn't listen. A stone wall would be more forthcoming than her, which made earning a place in her good books quite impossible. It was really no surprise that he got frustrated. He had already thrown his dignity to the winds; he had grovelled and begged and let her say what she wanted to him, and now he was just tired of it all. The stupid girl was driving him crazy, and he wanted answers. He just wanted to know why she wouldn't give him a chance to prove that he had changed.

So, after another torturous day of coldness and smug (sometimes hateful) looks from the waterbender, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He cornered her against the mural wall in the temple later that night, demanding to know what the hell her problem was. Everyone else had accepted him into the group, so why couldn't she? Why was it so difficult for her to see that he was on her side?

"Just what are you expecting from me?" he growled, trapping her within the cage of his arms as he glared down at this girl who had made his life so difficult. "Spirits know I've tried to apologise for my past mistakes, but it seems like nothing I do is good enough for you. You don't even want to listen."

She held her chin high as she met his gaze, but for all her boldness her breathing sounded fragmented, almost shaky. He was too angry to notice the danger signs; too hurt to see the way her pupils dilated at his proximity, swallowing the blue in a pool of black, or how her gaze kept flickering to his mouth. He just wanted his answers, which was why he leaned in even closer so that their faces were inches apart.

"What is it that you want?" he gritted out, staring intensely into her ocean-blue eyes. "Name it and I'll do it; I'll do whatever it takes to get it into that stubborn head of yours that I've changed, but I'll be damned if I—"

Her fingers suddenly clutched at his tunic, tugging his face down so that his lips crashed against hers. Zuko was so surprised that for a moment he just stood there frozen, but then her arms curled around his neck, and he could feel the tip of her tongue sliding along the seam of his lips, and it was as if fire burst to life inside him. He could move again, but only to open his mouth to hers, giving her the entrance she so desired, and allowing him to taste her with each velvety caress, each blood-tingling kiss. His hands found purchase on slender hips, pulling her closer and letting him feel every soft curve, every rapid beat of her heart. She pressed herself even harder against him in response, and they both sighed into the kiss as their bodies brushed against each other in all the right places.

Katara somehow managed to undo the ties of his tunic, and then she was touching his bare chest, tracing the defined ridges and planes, and making his skin burn with every touch. Little whispers of warning echoed in his mind like bells, but it was so hard to stay focussed. His mind was blurred by the pounding rhythm of his heart, by the fire coiling and spreading through his veins like liquid flames. He couldn't think; he could only act, guided by age-old instincts that had him gripping her thighs as he lifted her off the ground, pressing her back against the wall in a desperate need to feel more of that friction between them; that had him placing hot, open-mouthed kisses on the fluttery pulse of her neck, moving down and down to the curve of her breasts. She arched into him with a half-choked moan, and he closed his eyes, biting down on his lip to hold back a groan of his own as their hips met with the motion.

More warning bells echoed in his mind, telling him that he was in way over his head and had no idea what he was doing. And it was true; he really didn't, but even though his mind was a tangled web of confused thoughts, his body still seemed to instinctively know what to do—what would make his blood spark with renewed fire and his breath come a little faster; what would make her gasp in pleasure and arch into him again and again, until it just didn't seem right that there should be so much cloth getting in the way of their skin touching. He wanted to feel her body slide against his like naked silk, to taste and explore every inch of her. He couldn't help but sigh in relief when they finally joined as one; the friction was so much better now, sending white-hot pleasure singing through his blood, like the purest of fire. But it was more than that as well. Being with her was like seeing the world in colour for the first time. Everything was just so tangible, so clear, so exquisitely intense.

"Zuko."

Her voice was hoarse, almost pleading, but he only gripped her tighter, lips brushing hers in desperate kisses that quickly turned into ragged breaths. He knew that her cries were mixed with pain, but she didn't ask him to stop; instead, she matched his rhythm with a helpless sort of desperation; it was as if they were both caught in a trance and could do no more than move in time to the rapid tattoo of their hearts, the heady pulse of their blood. Zuko could barely contain himself. The fire was all through him now, building and building until he was seeing flashes of stars. Until he could feel something snap inside him, like a string plucked too tight.

"Ka-Katara—"

He couldn't get the rest of the words out. The fire had reached its final crescendo, and there was nothing either of them could do but ride out the storm, letting the inferno wash over them and bring them both to climax. When it was over, they were both panting and slumped on the ground. Zuko's limbs felt like jelly and they were both sweating, skin sliding against skin in sticky dampness as he shifted to hold himself up on his elbows, looking down into her eyes. The fog was beginning to clear in his mind—in both their minds—and what he saw in her ocean-blue irises had his heart clenching in a steel trap of unease. She looked scared, almost horrified, as if she couldn't believe what she had just done.

"I—" he began, licking his lips.

Katara shoved him off her before he could finish his sentence, and she hissed in pain when he slid out of her with the motion. She snatched up her clothes from the ground and then gave him a wild-eyed look as she stood back to her full height, like an animal about to bolt. In that moment he could see her shame, her lust, her naked fear.

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this," she said in a shaky voice, trying to appear intimidating but only succeeding in looking vulnerable and small. "I'll know if you do, and I'll—I'll—" she compressed her lips together, trying to get a hold of herself. It was obvious she was close to tears.

Zuko reached out for her. "Katara—"

"Don't!" she cried, flinching away from his hands. "Just don't—don't touch me."

He paused, not quite able to hide the flicker of hurt in his eyes. "Fine," he said flatly, "but before you start turning me into the monster who stole your virginity, just remember that you were the one who kissed me first."

She stared at him through overly bright eyes, but he just turned the other way. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had upset him. He felt used and dirty, like some plaything to be enjoyed while the moment lasted and then tossed aside when reality came knocking again. It was humiliating, wounding, and a part of him wanted to shout at this girl; to demand who the hell she thought she was that she could just string him along like this, playing hot and cold with his emotions as if it were nothing.

"Just go away," he muttered when she remained silent. "You obviously want to pretend that nothing happened, so forget it. Leave. I won't tell a soul."

She didn't move.

Zuko repressed a sigh and turned back to look at her. "What?" he snapped. "Why are you still here? What is it that you want from me?"

It was an echo of his earlier words—something they both recognised as her eyes flickered to his in a skittish glance—but this time there was no impulsive kiss, no inferno of fire. She just stared down at her feet, clutching her clothes to her chest to hide her naked body.

"I don't know," she said softly. "I don't know what I want."

He let out a small breath, surprised by her honesty, but she didn't wait for his response and mumbled an apology before making her escape, leaving him alone in the mural room. Zuko didn't bother to follow her; instead, he placed his head in his hands with a sigh and closed his eyes, feeling as if all of the energy had suddenly been drained out of him. There was no comprehending what had happened that night. Everything had spiralled out of his control so quickly, and now he just felt so confused, so torn between feelings of regret and desire and shame.

"Stupid," he muttered. "So stupid."

He should have never kissed her back. He should have never allowed himself to be caught up in the moment, but it was too late to reconsider his actions now. The damage had already been done; he'd had sex with the waterbender; he had atoned for his mistakes with his body, letting her take from him the last of his innocence, even as he had snatched away her own. There was no saying what tomorrow would bring—whether she would still hate him or not, but he did know one thing. He would never forget this night.

He would never forget her.

* * *

Author note (22/7/2013): So I ended up replacing my response to the 'Atonement' prompt with this revised version. No major changes; I have just heavily edited the sex scene to make it less graphic.


	29. Steam

**Soundtrack:** My Heart is Broken – Evanescence

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**Steam**

They clash in a collision of water and fire, steam hissing from the contact in sparks of misty grey. For a moment they are so close that he can feel her breasts brushing against him with each ragged breath, with every shared heartbeat. It is a distracting sensation, but he cannot afford to lose focus now. The Avatar is right there, completely defenceless, and Zuko is not about to let this stupid waterbender get in his way. He has to take her down, no matter what it takes.

With a growl, he breaks away from her and drops into a bending stance, counterattacking with two fireballs that she deflects with a water-shadowed sweep of her hand. A smirk curves her lips and his eyes narrow in response. It seems the little waterbender has got quite cocky now that she has found a master. Well, he'll soon wipe the smile off her face.

He lunges for her in a blur of white, fire shooting from his fists in sparks of orange, and making her duck and weave as he attacks with relentless intensity. She's on the defensive now, trying to push him back with waves and water whips, but he's found his rhythm and he refuses to be stopped. He is a force of passion and determination, and suddenly they are chest-to-chest again, more steam hissing between them as their elements clash and negate each other.

"Back off, Zuko!" she grits out between clenched teeth. "I won't let you have him!"

His eyes glitter dangerously. "We'll see about that."

In one fluid motion he slips his foot between hers and tugs hard, knocking her off balance and sending her plummeting to the ground. Her hand grasps wildly at the air, finding purchase on his jacket and, before he can react, he is tumbling down with her onto the grass in a tangle of limbs. The world seems to slow in that moment. Zuko stares down at the girl trapped beneath him, feeling her chest rise and fall, even as her heart pounds in a frenzied tattoo against his chest. He knows he is breathing just as hard, his heart beating just as fast. They are so close—too close.

_Focus!_ his mind screams.

He should move; he should get off her, but his body refuses to obey. Instead, he finds himself brushing his fingers against her cheek in a gesture so gentle, so wrong. Her breath catches and she stares up at him through wide, blue eyes.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice is shaky, with not a trace of the arrogance that has so previously annoyed him. He swallows and shakes his head, snapping out of his trance. Time speeds back up then, even as the disorientating pulse of his blood begins to slow. He remembers why he is fighting the waterbender; why they are both on the ground, bodies pressed intimately against each other in half-restraint, half-surrender.

He remembers that he is supposed to be capturing the Avatar.

A growl escapes his throat, and he rolls off her and springs back to his feet, fire gathering at his fingertips. She pulls herself together in a flash, summoning the water around her like a shield, already preparing to counter. Their eyes meet for a brief second, both hesitant to attack after their strange moment on the grass; then his anger and desperation takes control of his blood, fuelling the fire within him, and they once again collide, elements crashing together in an explosion of colour—of flame and liquid that quickly evaporates into steam.

There is an odd kind of balance to their struggle. They are like the two koi fish, circling round and round each other, yet never quite claiming dominance. It is only when the moon reaches its peak that she is able to get him down, but even then his defeat does not last long. He just keeps on coming at her, and she just keeps matching his every attack with a watery counter of her own. It is a collision of neutralisation—a hiss of steam that whispers of shared heartbeats and fragmented breaths, of anger and desire.

It is harmony, and in that there can be no true victor. For even as he is striding off into the snow with his Avatar burden, leaving the unconscious waterbender behind, he knows that the battle is not truly over. Not yet. Somehow, the thought isn't as unpleasant as it should have been.


	30. Gravity

**Soundtrack: **Breath of Life – Florence + the Machine

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**Gravity**

It starts with a swooping sensation, dragging him down and down until he no longer has any control of himself. Until he is falling so helplessly, so completely, that he knows he will never be able to stop. There are no ledges of which he can grab hold, no wings to carry him upwards. There is only Katara: this woman who is like a force pulling him from his self-constructed walls of reserve, drawing him in with her ocean-blue eyes and tauntingly soft lips.

Drawing him to her.

She is the centre of his world, the anchor that holds him grounded. She is like gravity, and he knows that he cannot resist succumbing to her powers, try as he might. He will keep on falling, keep on tumbling headlong towards her, because it is the only thing that he can do. Because he is in love with her, and he cannot deny his heart.

He cannot deny her.


	31. Eve

**Soundtrack:** Somewhere – Within Temptation

* * *

**Eve**

Her hair is as silver as the moon now, but the hair loopies are still the same, threaded with blue-painted ivory just as he remembers. Fingers can trace lines on once smooth skin, discovering footprints of hundreds of smiles and frowns, but the ocean-blue eyes have not changed; they are still so warm, still so reassuring. She places her mending down on the table when she catches sight of him, and he sees that her hands have become gnarled like an old oak's skin, spotted with age, yet there is strength whispered in the bones—the strength of a Master waterbender; of a woman who had dared to defy a world that insisted she could not fight.

"You're late," she says, meeting his pale gold eyes.

A faint smile curves his lips. "Would you believe me if I said I tried to get here as fast as possible?"

"Not fast enough."

He is about to protest, but then she pulls him into her arms, holding him close. It is only a second before he returns the gesture, closing his eyes as he breathes in her scent, so comforting and familiar.

"I've missed you," she whispers, burying her face into his shoulder.

His arms tighten around her waist. "I've missed you, too."

For a moment they just stand there, clutching at each other as if the embrace can make up for all the lost years, all the missed opportunities. It has been so long; he had almost forgot just how much he cares for this woman, but then she gently pulls back, not quite breaking his hold as she looks up into his face.

"We're the last ones left, you know," she says quietly. "Sokka, Toph, Suki, Aang—they're all gone."

"I know."

She curls her fingers into his tunic, lowering her gaze to the golden sash tied around his middle. "I don't want to do this alone, Zuko."

"I know," he repeats, and then he pulls her closer, cradling her against his chest. "You won't have to."

Because they both know that their time is coming; that eve will soon turn to dawn, seeing their souls leave for the next great adventure. But that time is not yet, and there is no one he would rather spend the rest of his mortal life with than her.

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Yay, we've reached the end!

Thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed this collection. You have all been awesome and have made completing this challenge much more enjoyable for me (because I can tell you that there were many times where I just felt like giving up on writing these things), so thank you! I have greatly appreciated your comments and support.

I will be expanding upon these one-shots to make them into chaptered stories: 'Festival', 'Stranger' and 'Forbidden'. If there are any others you would like to see expanded upon, do let me know and I will see what I can do. I can't promise that I will get around to all of them, but it never hurts to ask. ^_~

Until next time,

Boogum


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